


Practice (Technicality) on Your Heart

by gomushroom



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: ninoexchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gomushroom/pseuds/gomushroom
Summary: Nino co-stars with Matsumoto in an Ohno-Sensei art house film production.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2014 ninoexchange. 
> 
> I originally wanted to write one kiss scene, but then it exploded into this wordy story asdlkjf;d. Thank you Miss M and the awesome nino_mod for all the cheers and support ♥!

The man has been the latest sensation in the business, especially with his double hits, _Into This Quiet Night_ , a modern dramatic romance with a glint of horror released as a popular web-series, and _Rain_ , a noir musical feature film about bikini-clad female superheroes from the future; reviewers called them daring and uncanny masterpieces. Both are said to be offering fresh renditions of the overexploited genres, making Ohno-sensei the hot topic of the conversation around Shitamachi; he also seems to have a penchant for unusual—both camera and narrative—framing, whatever that means. Rumor has it that he doesn’t let anyone handle the story—sometimes there’s no script. Amateur local actors that have worked with him rave about the man, saying that they never imagined they could gain such precious experience, that the man has vision like all the greatest directors do, that he’s difficult to work with but it’s worth every ounce of your patience because he’s just _that_ good.

Not that Nino cared in the first place, not until Aiba called saying he and Sho were now working on another Ohno-sensei project, asking whether he’s interested in going to an audition.

Of course, he’s interested; his last experience with the bikini-girls was mind-blowing enough to get him excited for a few others.

For all the complaints he threw at Aiba after the last short film project—how it didn’t pay the rent, how Ohno-sensei was sometimes absurdly unconventional, how he didn’t like the story, how he knew he should’ve chosen a better project—Nino does enjoy the hardship of being a lowly actor, no firm strings attached, for the sake of ‘art’; it keeps him busy for a period of time and Aiba doesn’t bother him with constant demands about another project.

Of course, he would have chosen a stage play role over a film role anytime of the year, but, as Sho is constantly reminding him, a struggling actor can’t be a chooser. “We’re nobodies, Nino, that’s just the way it is. If I have to kiss some temperamental director’s ass, maybe you should do it too and be more flexible about accepting the work you get.” Or if Nino has any more complaints, Sho just insists that he should reminisce about their younger days when they were still working for a hopeless and lame kabuki troupe, those smelly old men and all. That always shuts him up fast.

 

Nino opens the door and finds they are already waiting for him.

Ohno-sensei—the small figure sitting beside work-mode Sho, wearing reading glasses, surrounded by scattered paper and his thick memo books—doesn’t look up from reading a document. Nino heads straight to the lone chair in the middle of the meeting room of their production office and takes a seat.

Nothing for five full minutes, just Nino trying not to fidget in his seat, Sho writing things at full speed, and Ohno-sensei staring at a piece of paper.

“Can you play the piano? It says so here in your file.”

The first—and only—question, delivered in a soft tone without having Ohno-sensei even look up and meet his gaze, startles Nino.

Unsure of how this will work out to his benefit, he doesn’t lace his answer with any other information. “Yes.”

Ohno-sensei looks up to meet his gaze, holding the stare for a while. It isn’t enough time to school his expression into something mild, and not full of questions and confusion; Nino can only stare back.

A small smile blooms on Ohno-sensei’s face, and before Nino can reply it, the man says, “Okay, Sho-chan, he’ll do. Looking forward to work with you again, Nino.”

A ‘huh’ comes out of reflex, earning Nino a glare from Sho across the room, silently asking him to keep his manners in check. But he needs to ask. “But you haven’t seen me play,” he says, confused, “or act the script.”

“I don’t have to.” Ohno takes one look at him, sending him that small smile again, one quirk at the corner of his lips with knowing eyes, before standing up and walks toward the door. “I should go meet Aiba-chan and ask him to get a white grand piano ready. Sho-chan, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“Sure, Sensei.” Sho stands to bow to Ohno-sensei before, quickly, turning to Nino, holding both his hands in front of him to keep Nino from firing another question. “Just wait.”

The door closes behind Ohno-sensei.

 

It’s only when he gets home from his audition that Nino remembers the single page of script he received from the production office. He realizes that Ohno-sensei didn’t even bring it up at all.

>  
> 
> INT. DIM BEDROOM. NAKED - NIGHT
> 
> EXTREME CLOSE UP. A pair of lips lock. Audible panting. Forehead against forehead. Close. Sharing air. 

Eyes closed, Nino sighs heavily and sets his mind on restarting the image from the first frame. Whose bedroom? His? His partner’s? And he is not—definitely not—going to get over the ‘naked’ part. How naked it is going to be? Half naked? All naked? Physically naked? Mentally naked? And if it’s mentally, what the hell is that supposed to mean? He almost wishes he could edit the whole thing, or at least ask for adequate preparation to approach the scene one line at a time. While focusing on the details for the setting first, he won’t go on to read the second, and so on. Not to mention the other images, even more mind-blowing. Lips. A pair of lips—he knows it’s going to involve a partner. Bloody hell. And having been around, he knows that when a script says extreme close up, it will be terribly extreme. Else, they would have used the usual term, CU for close up, and ended things at that. No need to be detailed, no need to be so close, no need to fill the film with intricate details of, in this case, a pair of lips. Puckered lips to land over other puckered lips, and to have it invade the frame, filling the entire screen with lips—.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket, startling the hell out of him. Opening his eyes, Nino straightens his feet, taking the chance to finally lie on his back against the carpet of his living room floor, hands going through his pocket to fish out his phone.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon,” a deep voice greets him on the end of the line. “I’m trying to reach Ninomiya Kazunari. This is Sakurai Sho from the Puru Puru Simpuru production office. Now, regarding your shooting schedule, I am calling to infor—“

Rolling his eyes, Nino cannot hold in his chuckles. “That company name is just too hilarious. What is it, Sho-chan?”

“Ninomiya-san, I am calling on behalf of the—“ Sho sighs audibly before he begins to whisper. “I was trying to do this the right way, okay? Work with me here.”

“By being so formal all of a sudden?”

“By doing this by the book.”

“You just startled me out of my complicated scene training at a crucial moment.” Nino rolls to the side and his back is crying a bit from the sudden movement, reminding him that he has been crouching the whole morning. “What is it then? Did I get the part or not?”

“Nino,” Sho says, a little squeaky this time. “Why do you have to ruin the fun?”

“Because you ruined my fun first?”

“I certainly did not. This is the middle of a workday. For those who’re working, that is. Not that I’m responsible for you not having work at this time of day.”

“So I didn’t get the part.”

“That’s not what I said,” Sho replies, a beat too fast. “I was just trying to say that you—“

“Got the part?”

There’s no sound except Sho’s huffing from the end of the line and Nino can clearly imagine Sho pouting, hunched toward his computer screen, cursing internally. That very image brings a smile on his face, knowing that his guess is spot on.

“Come on, Sho-chan. Stop being such a tight-ass and just spill the good news.”

“Fine,” Sho replies. “First, stop making comments about my ass. And second, you got the part. Congratulations. Happy now?”

The smile blooms into a wide grin. Nino lets out a small ‘woohoo’ before rolling himself on the carpet, running into a stack of his books with his left leg and crushing his right arm uncomfortably.

“I take it that you’re happy since I could clearly hear your ‘woohoo’.”

“Woohoo!”

“Like I said, I heard that already. Now, can I get your attention back so I can inform you of your schedule?”

“Who’s the other one?” Ignoring Sho’s question, a muffled sound comes out of his mouth, currently fixed against the soft carpet.

“You’re definitely ruining the fun for me.”

“Who is it?”

“I am tempted to not tell just to get back at you for being a not-fun person.”

“I thought this was about work. Isn’t it against your policy to mix fun with work?”

“I should’ve listened to Aiba-chan and let him handle your schedule.”

“That you probably should have. But I’ll find out sooner or later. Both your notoriously rigid schedule and the info about my co-star. Just tell me already.”

“Now you’re just bragging. We all know that this is a film production but it doesn’t mean that you can start calling Matsumoto your co-star all of a sudden. We here don’t really use the term co-star as much as—“ Sho stops talking abruptly, both from the realization that he just mentioned the name Nino was asking for and hearing Nino’s laughter on the other end of the line. “Oh, fuck you.”

The laughter intensifies.

“I am serious here. I really hate you right now.”

“I know, Sho-chan. I hate you too. So, who’s this Matsumoto guy?”

Giving up entirely, Sho caves. “Some guy Ohno-sensei scouted. He’s new. I don’t know, I’ve never worked with him or heard of him. You can probably nag Aiba-chan about this because he’s in charge of the guy. Plus, I’m not telling. I just don’t know much about him so spare me the questions.”

“Sure. And I can safely assume you’re not coming over for dinner. With all the extra work?”

“At least put in some effort if you’re truly inviting me for dinner.” Another sigh. “I’ll email you the schedule then. It’s better than calling you and not even getting a—“

“Thank you, Sho-chan,” Nino says softly, silencing Sho immediately. He can see Sho’s pout slowly break into a satisfied smile. “Now go phone and bother someone else.”

Sho doesn’t say anything back and just cuts the line after that, leaving Nino cackling to himself in his dark living room.

 

“So how does he look?”

Aiba only laughs at his question, swinging the grocery bag toward Nino who’s been waiting as he settles down by the door to take off his boots. “Could you at least let me make it to your kitchen safely?”

“No.”

“Give me that,” Aiba says, standing up and grabbing the bag back before shouldering his way to Nino’s kitchen. “I’m starving.”

“Well, me too. But you can always talk while getting some food ready.”

“You’re being overly suspicious about this Matsumoto guy. Sho-chan already told me about his blabbing to you this afternoon so you know his name already. What you don’t know is?”

“The rest of the important information.”

“Perhaps I also won’t tell.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t pull a Sho-chan on me.”

“Perhaps I would if you asked nicely,” Aiba says. He begins to unload the bag as Nino settles across him at the counter. Tonight it’s going to be simple, just dump some vegetables out, get the potatoes he stored at Nino’s fridge few days back, and mix them all in with his mother’s recipe for home-made mayonnaise. Nothing fancy, and more importantly, it’s fast and has vegetables in it.

Aiba begins to cut the cucumber and then moves on to sprinkling salt and pepper on the microwave-heated mashed potatoes, while keeping Nino waiting just a bit longer. “I don’t know why you’re so excited about this new guy. Was it because Sho-chan’s being so secretive all of a sudden and you’re just teasing him?”

“I am curious. I’ve never heard of him, and Ohno-sensei scouted him.”

“Ah, that was the problem, right?”

“That’s not what I mean. I think I can say I know almost everyone. Arthouse doesn’t really have a broad network to begin with, and Shimokitazawa is definitely not that large.”

“You wouldn’t know the guy if he works in mainstream entertainment.”

“Nah. That wouldn’t be possible. Anyone who’s gone mainstream wouldn’t want to feature in Sensei’s work.”

“You got it wrong. It’s the other way around. Sensei wouldn’t want that person in his work.”

“So this Matsumoto is definitely not from mainstream then.”

“It’s really terrifying to witness your brain work that fast. I hope you don’t break Sho-chan too much this time,” Aiba says, shrugging good-naturedly as he pours the miso and broth into the pan he set up on the kitchen counter. “He never stands a chance against you.”

Nino presses on, ignoring the additional comment from Aiba. “And then? What else do you know about him?”

“Since you asked nicely.” Aiba shrugs at the tone, and focusing on the now mayonnaise and putting the dish together. “Not much actually.”

“But enough to give me the basics, right?”

“You are persistently persistent. Why is it, actually? It’s not like you are going to—“ Aiba’s hand stop mid-mix. He puts the bowl and his wooden spoon down slowly, keeping sharp eye contact with Nino. “I’ll be damned.”

For all his persistence, Nino knows when he needs to lie low and retreat. He tries his best innocent smile before answering, “Hmm?”

“Seriously?” Aiba starts to laugh, with his hiccup giggles in the middle, resulting in Nino failing to keep his innocent expression.

Time to retreat, and to play innocent, because apparently Aiba can read him like a book—a fact that he would hate if it didn’t also work the other way around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s that scene, the scene, which Sho-chan said Ohno-sensei refers to as the scene to end all scenes. Whatever that means. I can’t believe you took Sho-chan’s comments seriously.” Shaking his head lightly, Aiba swallows his giggles slowly before reaching for the bowl and going back to mixing his salad.

He’s halfway turning from the cabinet to get the plates out when Nino decides that maybe it’s a lost battle this time. “Fine. Fine! If you’re not going to tell me, then you're not going to tell me. Can you just please hurry with the food then, I’m starving.”

“Mhmm, self-defence. Always so cute.”

Nino flushes at the off-hand comment. It’s never his intention to get into wordplay with Aiba because no matter how it turns out, the man can really hold his ground around him. He learned a long time ago that it’s never easy to get information from Aiba, especially when it concerns their work.

“Even cuter.” Aiba throws his failed wink toward him as he slides the plate to Nino’s side with a laugh, clearly noticing the flush. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, really.”

This time it’s Nino’s turn to pout, no better than Sho’s this afternoon.

“You brought this upon yourself, after all.”

“And I’m regretting every moment of it.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Will you give me the info now that you know I’m regretting it?”

“Perhaps I will. If you eat your vegetables, I will tell you all I know about this Matsumoto guy.”

“If.”

“Yes, if. Let’s make it good and finish the whole dish this time?”

“I know this is a scheme to make me eat any green thing, but I might overlook that because my curiosity is killing me.”

“Your curiosity is always killing you so that won’t be a problem.”

“No need to be mean, Aiba-chan.”

Aiba hands him a fork. “Go ahead.”

Nino accepts it and begins to poke his plate. “There are an awful lot of green things in this.”

“Which need to be consumed fast before their water starts to ooze out and ruin my salad.”

“That’s just disgusting,” he says, although with a pout he then takes a small bite. “Happy now?”

Aiba lets out a small ‘yay’ at that.

“I take it that you’re happy since I’m totally getting your annoying ‘yay.’”

“Yay!”

“So start talking or I’m going to stop eating this disgusting stuff.”

“That disgusting stuff is good for you, you know.” Aiba shifts his own plate closer and begin munching. “What do you want to know about this Matsumoto anyway?”

At such a direct question, Nino finds himself questioning his own question. “Anything. Anything that would help.”

“That he’s not from mainstream?”

“I already deduced that much.”

“And yet you keep on pushing.” Aiba replies easily as he takes another bite of the salad, savoring the flavour. “I don’t think I have much on him though. All I can tell you is what his CV said about him, which I happened to read this afternoon because Sho-chan insisted on pulling it out of the drawer. For you, if I have to guess. He was going to blab all the details himself soon, I’m sure. You should’ve been patient and waited for him to call you back.”

“I have you right here, right now.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Aiba says, with a small smile and a wave of a hand.

Nino snorts at that, refusing to be distracted from his main intentions. “Aiba-chan, I’ve almost finished half of this and you haven’t given me anything.”

“I gave you food, good food that shouldn’t be left to waste.” Aiba on the other side of the counter has finished his salad and in dumping more spoonful scoops from the bowl onto his plate. “He’s striking though.”

Nino sighs heavily. While he knows Aiba is probably saying so to get back at him for being a nag, he trusts Aiba when it comes to a ‘striking’ comment. It doesn’t come out easy from him, a ‘striking’ comment, so the man is probably striking as he says. And Nino hates himself now that they’re talking about ‘striking’ and the only image that comes to mind is a topless Aiba. What’s that all about, really?

Or perhaps topless Matsumoto is an even better image? After all, Aiba said ‘striking’ so perhaps that’s good for now.

“Don’t you have any other information? Any that will come in handy?”

“I though that was useful,” Aiba says. He waves his spoon toward Nino. “You would want to know that, right? Even if that fact will make you even more self-conscious.”

“Am not.”

Aiba laughs. “Oh, this is going to be a good production, I just know it. Sho-chan will fly off the fucking handle as usual. And Sensei will bring those weird visions alive—as usual.”

Nino knows when to stop prodding, so he does. He’d not getting anything else from Aiba—without having to eat another dish of green things. What worries him is that he probably will chew on celery sticks if Aiba asks him to just for a sliver of probably more useless info.

He can always do his own research on the side, can’t he?

 

What he called research—involving asking around to old friends in the business and a hesitant Google search—doesn’t yield much, that he knows. And he’s one step closer to wrecking his nerves, he blurts out without realizing, only a second too late, since that definitely catches Yuriko’s attention.

“That was rare of you. I didn’t know that you got _this_ nervous over a production,” she says, her price tagger moving at constant speed as she reaches for more and more bags of chips.

Nino sends her a sullen look from across the small stock room. “I’m not _that_ nervous.”

“Yes you are,” she replies easily, “or else you would’ve been done tagging those bags of chips ten minutes ago. You’re working so slowly today.”

He looks down to see the box of potato chips still half full, the price tagger hanging idly in his hand, and he can’t comment further. The conversation had started off light when Yuriko asked him about his schedule for next month, since he’s going to be away for a production. He should have known that her listening to him rant away the worry doesn’t equal her sympathizing any more.

“Maybe I am,” Nino says, “maybe I’m not.”

“Anyway, is this going to be that long period of production, like the one you had last year? If so, I need you to tell me in advance. It’s hard enough to find new people these days, so I want to be prepared.”

“Two months.”

“Full? You can’t even take a single shift during those months?” Yuriko sets aside her empty chips box before reaching for the next box, full of cup ramen this time.

“I guess not.”

“And you expect us to be here when you come back, with open arms, saving your lousy combini shift so you can go back to be a commoner after your trip to the clouds?”

“Yuriko-chan, no one wants the job anyway. It’s, your word not mine, lousy.” Nino says, with a warm tone. They’ve done this before and it’s always entertaining all the same. “I’m sure the job will still be available when I’m back.”

“If you come back, that is. Who knows? You’ll probably get some lucrative offers on the way and refuse to come back to your old work place, claiming trauma and office bullying.” Yuriko shifts her price tagger and empty boxes aside. “Okay, I’m done. And you really are slow today.”

Attempting to catch some more speed with tagging, Nino accidentally topples the stack of empty cartons he has set aside. “Oh shut up, boss.”

“Well, now that I have time,” she says, straightening her feet within the available space and leaning back on the supply shelves behind her, “you can go on with your story of being nervous.”

Nino punches the tag a bit roughly, causing the bag he’s holding to slip out of his hands. “I’m not nervous, okay?”

“Okay, you’re not nervous. Not nervous at all. Then?”

“I don't’ know why I’m talking about this with you.”

“Mhmm, I don’t know. Perhaps because Aiba-chan and Sho-kun are not being, your word not mine, cooperative.” She ends the sentence with one of her scariest smiles.

“That’s very helpful.”

“Anything for my lousy combini work partner,” she replies dryly. “Now, stop beating around the bush and let me know why you’re nervous about this production—that hasn’t even started yet—and how you’re so antsy about this Matsumoto guy—that you haven’t even met.”

The sullen look comes back to his face. “I’m not nervous. Nor antsy.”

“And you said I was helpful.” She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily, folding her arms in front of her before sending Nino a sceptical glare. She stands up and heads to the door. “I should go back. I don’t trust Ryo-chan for longer than an hour. I hope he hasn’t destroyed the store.”

Nino hums his acknowledgement. The moment has passed—and what did he expect anyway? Circling around the matter at hand or not, he can’t bring himself to answer to the questions she posed earlier. Just another layer to add to his helpless nervousness—just wait, he keeps telling himself, just wait till you find out more to tell.

Yuriko stops at the door and turns to him before she steps out. “I’ll be behind the counter if you need to talk about that nervousness.”

He nods silently: it’s an open offer, her message crystal clear. He might take her up on it someday.

 

He doesn’t expect a formal introduction party to start off the production. No one in their lowly business circle, as far as he knows, has the time or money to arrange such festivities. But when Sho told him that he should come by the office before he goes to his fitting session, he wasn’t expecting everyone from their small production team—Sho and Aiba, and Ohno, and a sparkly guy, along with two other guys, one he recognized from a previous short project, Takeda-san, if he’s not mistaken, and a woman, perhaps some other art department person, judging from the oversized shirt she wears, from the _Into the Quiet Night_ Team. That’s all you’re getting—gathered in the small room to hold a formal introduction, not a party of course, meeting. There are still chairs and desks and work papers all over the room so it isn’t enough to be considered party—but it is close, since everyone is there.

Including that Matsumoto guy.

Including that Matsumoto guy who is chatting with Ohno-sensei with poised ease, towering over the small man—and who by deduction, will tower over him too—wearing, from what he can tell, a sweet, fond expression on his face.

He senses Aiba approaching. “Is that—?”

“Glad to see you could make it to the party even if you’re terribly late. Sho-chan was worried you’d skip this one.” Aiba pats him on the shoulder as a greeting. He stands by Nino, sipping his coffee lazily. “You’re blocking the door, by the way.”

“He is good-looking. Strikingly, annoyingly, amazingly good-looking.”

Aiba turns to Nino, chuckling lightly at the sight of him staring openly at the man across the room.

“I’m doomed.”

“Yes, you are.” Aiba smiles at that, a little bit too happy for being the sole witness of Nino’s surprise. They are standing right by the door, not actually blocking it but very close to preventing anyone from trying to go through. “And we are blocking the door now.”

“How am I supposed to go over there, introduce myself?” Nino murmurs to himself. “And was that—?”

Aiba turns his gaze to follow Nino’s focus: Matsumoto is chuckling over something Ohno-sensei has just said, causing them both to close their distance, whispering about what seems to be a secret they refuse to share with the rest of the world.

Nino feels himself burning, rooted to his spot, realizing that Aiba is aiming amused, utterly amused, stares at him, but his gaze stays on the man across the room. “I’m going to punch that talented director if I find out that he’s sleeping with that new guy he scouted personally.”

“Very violent for an awe-at-first-sight declaration, I’ll say. You have nothing to worry about though. If Ohno-sensei ever has time to sleep these days, he’s going to be out cold within minutes. The guy works too much.”

Ignoring too much information about Ohno—when all he wants is information about the other guy—Nino elbows Aiba’s side, missing his mark since his aim is not accurate and he ends up delivering a weak nudge instead. Across the room, Matsumoto laughs over Ohno-sensei’s—what Nino could only hope is a—terrible joke. “I’m so doomed.”

“That’s twice. Let me get Sho-chan and a video camera. You can achieve a triple then.”

“That’s not nice of you.” Nino finally shifts a bit, closing his distance with Aiba, only to get a better angle of the two men across the room who have moved along toward the window and are having what he can as assume is a more serious conversation now—at least he can set the plan to punch Ohno-sensei aside, now that he doesn’t appear as smooch-y as before.

“There’s no need to be nice to you. In fact, I’m going to get very not nice and tease you to infinity.”

“That’s definitely not nice. I haven’t even talked to him, struck a boring conversation or just seen his striking face up close.”

“It’s incredible what a page of script can do to ruin your sanity. If I hadn’t already known that Sensei is a genius, I’d be proclaiming it now. You literally have hearts in your eyes.”

“How the hell am I going to get naked with a guy like that?” Nino ignores the teasing—for now—and mumbles to himself; Aiba hears him clearly all the same.

“Good job on finally saying that concern out loud, yet we’re still blocking the door,” Aiba says, sparing him the teasing—for now—and ushering them farther into the room. “Let’s get you all introduced. And then I should really get Sho-chan because he must have thought of this moment and readied a camera somewhere in the room for the moment we have all waiting for.”

“I really hate you two right now.”

 

He can only blame the page of the script—and Ohno-sensei, by extension—for the fact that the moment he steps into the space he’s been observing, his gaze goes directly to Matsumoto’s lips. Such lush lips, finally, up close. Dammit.

And Aiba—Nino swears that he’s going to get even with that teasing jerk—chooses the worst timing to push him lightly into the space, causing him to stumble ungracefully forward and disrupting what seems to be an amiable chat between Ohno-sensei and Matsumoto.

“Oh, Nino.” Ohno-sensei notices him first, only a mere half-second before Matsumoto has his gaze on him. “Glad to see you’re here. Sho-chan said you might not make it.”

Straightening himself out as fast as he can, even the effort is futile, Nino offers a small awkward smile to Ohno-sensei, and he saves turning to Matsumoto for the next part of their introduction. “I tried.”

“He sure did,” Aiba adds, offering his own big smile to ease the awkwardness.

Ohno-sensei smiles at that but—as Nino can see clearly, now that he turns his attention to the man he’s been curious about for a month, now that he has his answer right in front of him, in the flesh—Matsumoto only stares at him, pursing those lips, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I see we’ve all met,” Ohno-sensei says, breaking the short silence. “If that’s all,” he says, turning to Aiba, “I really need to get back to my drawing.”

Matsumoto cuts Aiba off before he can respond. “All? I thought we were expecting more people.”

“Nope, this is about all of us. Food is over on the table, and we cannot offer anything but coffee. It’s hot and a little bit better than instant drinks though, so help yourself.” Aiba replies promptly this time, scanning the room before pointing at the coffee table in the corner. “And Sensei, thank you. You can go back to work if you need to.”

“That’d be best.” Ohno-sensei’s expression brightens up a bit. He turns to Matsumoto to bow slightly. “I’ll see you later, Matsumoto-kun.” Then he turns to Nino, giving the same slight bow to excuse himself. “I’ll see you later, Nino-chan.”

Nino bows back and steps aside to give way for Ohno-sensei. Aiba follows him, but not before giving a failed wink over his shoulder to Nino and nodding to Matsumoto. They’re gone in a flash, leaving the two of them in the corner of the room.

Now what?

>  
> 
> EXTREME CLOSE UP. 

Nino is the first to recover. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he says, holding out a hand, offering a smile.

He takes a good look at Matsumoto’s face, his expression, the quirk of his lips, those plush lips—his stare seems to always veer back to them—the sharp eyebrows and, now that he’s getting a _closer_ look--thanks to proximity, Aiba-chan and all that—he can start seeing broad shoulders under the white striped shirt he’s wearing, leading down to his broad chest. With his mind trying futilely to adjust the bright light from the tall window into slight dimness, he squints a little bit and gradually aims his gaze lower, down to the third button, fourth button, fifth—.

“You’re staring,” Matsumoto says, with a slight hint of amusement, “at me.”

“I am,” Nino says, letting his sentence hanging. He’s not going to apologize for staring at his co-star. At least he’s firm on that; it worth the obvious amusement. But it may be rude to continue; he’ll have time later anyway. He looks up to meet Matsumoto’s eyes, smiling brightly and ignoring the image starting to bloom in his head, of the white shirt falling off that body. He corrects himself, “I was.”

Matsumoto chuckles at that. “Thank you?”

“Your welcome,” Nino replies, chuckling himself. “We were trying to introduce ourselves to each other, right?”

“Right.”

“I will probably do that a lot from now on. Just saying.” Nino shifts a bit, now trying to concentrate on Matsumoto’s hair instead of lowering his gaze back down, which looks a little bit weird in his opinion. Are those styled locks? He doesn’t know, probably doesn’t want to know. It looks good on Matsumoto though, he has to give it to him, because when the man moves his head just a little bit, those locks move with it. Some loose fringe falls toward his forehead, just above the sharp brows, which now Nino realizes are neatly trimmed and—.

“You are staring again.”

“Ah, guilty.” Nino’s right hand goes up to cover his mouth. “Second time in one afternoon is probably out of line. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a bit weird,” Matsumoto says, smile even wider now.

At that very moment, Nino makes a mental note to keep on staring at him a lot just to see his smile bloom like that; it is strikingly gorgeous, which is an advantage of being so close, but not _that_ close, well, close enough for now. He wouldn’t attempt to be even closer, not before he can be sure that he won’t embarrass himself by stuttering, frozen on the spot, or the worst case, blushing profusely. These few minutes have been a good test; as he’s found out, he’s not going to do all of those embarrassing acts by being close, within talking distance. He hopes that by the time that scene comes, he’ll be better at this. He really hopes he’ll be better at this because—he’s damn sure Aiba-chan will bring this up later—awe-at-first-sight has turned up a notch into something else, something he hasn’t named yet—but he’s damn sure Aiba-chan will gladly give this a name anyway.

But for now, he keeps on staring shamelessly. “Yeah, I get that a lot. My name is Ninomiya. Everyone calls me Nino.”

 

“It’s an honor for me to work with Ohno-sensei. I hope we can get along fine during the production, and—“ Matsumoto holds his hand out, adding what Nino will remember for a long time as a Matsumoto-gag, “—and call me Jun.”

 

Later that night, Nino brings the matter up, fully amused. “What was that? Was he already drunk or something at that time of day?”

“I don’t think so,” Sho replies before stuffing in another mouthful of rice. “He said the exact same thing during the first meeting. That was how he introduced himself, I guess.”

“Not very bright, perhaps.” Nino gives a few nods at his own conclusion.

For all his being easy, Sho knows when to deliver a jab. “Well, no problem for me. I’m not the one who’s going to get naked with him.”

“Oh, shut up.” Nino could only flush before barrelling on with new questions. “How does he react on the page? How did his audition go? You must know more than you’re letting on. Come on!”

Sho throws a worried glance across the table where Aiba just shrugs and decides that it’s the perfect time to finish their shared gyoza plate off.

“I thought this was a celebration dinner, not an interrogation. I’m paying the bill so could you spare me the questioning. Go bother Aiba-chan.”

“I’d say you are pulling a Sho-chan on me for not being fun. But you are Sho-chan, so that nullifies everything.”

It’s Sho’s fourth sigh of the night and they haven’t even ordered the ice cream yet. “You’re going to find out yourself in two days. When you have the courage to ask him yourself. There. What’s the hurry?” Sho sighs for the fifth time. “And can we just enjoy dinner? It has been a long while since I’ve had time to actually sit in a restaurant and look at the food in front of me instead of my screen. And I won’t have time in the next two months, so please let me savor this.”

Nino considers the reasoning for a while before he glances toward Aiba, who’s still busy chewing down their shared gyoza one after another, and then back to Sho, who has ignored him completely in favor of wolfing down his hot ramen. What a helpless pair of overworked friends, he thinks fondly. “Okay. I can wait for two days. I have a script to memorize after all.”

Even with all the food in his mouth, chopsticks shoving in more noodles without altering his pace, Sho makes an effort to wave a thumbs-up. Nino lets the matter slide, for now. Production starts in two days. He’ll have plenty of time by then.

 

Nino is the first to enter the room. They are using the same meeting room; or perhaps, just as Nino had guessed, the office doesn’t have that many meeting rooms. More square tables and chairs are placed in the middle, along with the same table that holds the coffee machine. It’s as sparse as sparse can be; Nino isn’t expecting anything fancy to begin with—business rule #1: one can certainly tell what the scale of a production will be by the way they are feeding their crew.

Sho comes in right behind him, arms full with a stack of files and a small laptop perched on top of it. “Oh hey, you’re here already.”

“Yeah. I’m early, sorry for that.”

“No problem. I still need to set things up but since you’re here you can grab some coffee.” Sho dumps the files on one of the side table, sighing. He pulls a chair out and starts to go through the files in no time. “Make it two, if you’re going for it. I haven’t had any intake in the last hour.”

“Shooting hasn’t even begun yet and you’re already overdosed on coffee.”

Sho doesn’t even spare him a look, diving right into sorting his files and restarting his laptop. “I’m still safely within my daily limit. And knowing that the limit is going to be crushed to pieces within a few days actually excites me.”

Nino chuckles at the sudden unprompted confession. He cannot blame Sho for being excited at time like this; he is equally excited. He leaves sugar out of both their cups and heads back to the table to sit beside him. Sho welcomes his coffee with light “thank you” and goes back to his laptop screen. Nino sits idly, trying not to glance every other while toward the door, just focusing on the shutter windows across of him. Following Aiba who’s carrying what appears to be few copies of the script, Ohno-sensei enters next.

“Good afternoon,” Ohno-sensei says, before heading to the head of the table and taking a seat. He looks around, sending small smile to Nino before muttering softly. “We’re still waiting for some people, then?”

“Yes. Takeda-san and Matsumoto will be here shortly,” Aiba replies, settling himself across Nino and Sho, setting the books aside and rummaging through his bag to get his notebook out and ready.

“Okay.”

Just as Ohno finishes answering, Matsumoto comes through the door, followed by Takeda-san and the art department woman Nino saw at last week’s party.

“Oh, there you are,” Aiba says, welcoming them with a smile. He pats the chair next to him for Matsumoto so Takeda and the woman can take the seats at the far end of the table.

“Hello,” Matsumoto says, greeting Aiba before aiming his gaze across the table to meet Nino. “Hello.”

Nino only nods, trying to not to smile. It’s time to get serious after all—business rule #2: No matter how good friends you are (or how hard your so-called crush is) work always comes first. Just as Takeda settles in his chair, with perfect timing, Sho looks up to scan the room, noting that everyone is ready to begin.

“Where’s everybody? I thought we were still expecting more people,” Nino hears Matsumoto whisper to Aiba across from him.

Aiba’s reply also comes in a whisper. “All of us here is everybody.”

Ohno looks up from his paper, filled with what Nino can make out as sketches, lots of pencil sketches. He apparently heard what Matsumoto was asking Aiba and voices his answer. “Unlike your photo shoots, my production doesn’t involve a lot of people.”

Nino frowns at the statement. Photo shoots? Matsumoto is a model? He was paired with a model? Which explains why Matsumoto looks—he hates the word but—well groomed. It seems to fit the man. The stance, the pose, the look, the stare, the air, the amateur feeling, the freshness, the—

What Ohno-sensei says next startles him out of his thoughts. “And can we start the meeting now, Sho-kun? Takeda-san and Yamada-chan are here now.”

“Of course,” Sho replies.

 

Nino pulls his script out of his bag, setting it in front of him. It’s the norm (or what people say is business rule #3, but he won’t quote himself on that) after all to bring his to a production meeting. Even if he doesn’t have any pressing questions about the content, he needs to be able to consult (and make notes on) his copy when necessary. He can easily steal one of Sho’s fancy pens if he needs to. Yet, it’s almost never necessary. Production teams will get into heated arguments and throw each other countless suggestions. There will be numerous revisions all over the timelines, all over the directions, all over the details.

But not on this one. Ohno-sensei likes his productions to run smoothly, or more precisely, he leaves everything in Sho’s hands. With the help of Aiba, he’ll have his own freedom and all Nino has to do is to work his best.

Somehow, Matsumoto doesn't know about this yet. All serious across the table, the man has his notebook ready, making small notes all over, following Sho’s detailed explanation of the schedule, making more small notes, stretching his legs under the table right across him—that’s nice a pair of sneakers by the way—making more and more small notes.

“We’ll be stretching the second part of the Yokohama studio shoot for few days. It should give you the time span you requested, Sensei,” Sho says, pausing his reading to turn toward Ohno.

Ohno nods. “Thanks.”

“And it should give us a few more days for the Tokyo team to get ready,” Sho continues, turning to Yamada-chan.

“Great. That should be enough for us.” Yamada-chan scribbles down some notes. “Thank you, Sho-kun.”

“We then can move to the Tokyo outdoor part. Aiba-chan can explain rest of the rough time estimate,” Sho says, looking up from his screen to signal to Aiba to continue with the explanation.

“We have accommodated both your last-minute requests and fit them onto the master schedule,” Aiba says, seamlessly keeping the rhythm Sho has set, to both the art department chiefs. “We’re going to have a few off days for both Nino and Matsumoto. It’s all on this new copy of the schedule,” Aiba passes a piece of paper to Matsumoto, while Sho gives one to Nino at the same time. “There should be enough detailed points for you at the moment. We’ll get you the day-to-day points every few days during the shooting period and—“

At this point, Nino drifts off from the conversation. He can still hear Aiba continuing with his explanation. He’ll get the details later, or if he needs it, he could always ask Aiba. He shifts his gaze to Matsumoto, who’s paying attention and still making small notes every once in a while. It’s mostly Sho and Aiba talking to Matsumoto anyway—because Nino already knows they are most likely going to have another last-minute change made to the detailed schedule; they always do. Nino notices that Ohno-sensei is fixated with his own doodles; Takeda and Yamada-chan are whispering to each other, perhaps having their own little scheduling meeting; and Sho and Aiba are getting so much better at working together, completing each other’s explanations, giving details based on their strong points (Sho on site-order and Aiba on dispatch, Sho on the minutia and Aiba on the unexpected). So far Nino has listened to a good production plan, and he’s in good hands. That’s enough for him.

Perhaps Matsumoto hasn’t been made aware of this, so nothing is enough for him. The small note taking is beginning to annoy him.

“And as a last point, Sensei, do you have anything else to add?” Aiba closes his explanation and turns to Ohno-sensei.

“When is the rehearsal again?”

“Next Saturday morning for Nino,” Sho answers promptly. He doesn’t need to check his file; he has everything memorized by now. “Sunday morning for Matsumoto, and then evening for both.”

“Okay. I’ll need—“ Ohno finally looks up from his doodles. He bites into the tip of his pencil before deciding what they will need for the weekend. “Takeda-san, I need a keyboard, or if you can a piano, for Saturday morning. Set it up for number 5.”

“Got it, Sensei. I’ll see what I can do about the piano, but a keyboard shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. We’re practicing that scene,” Ohno says before switching his gaze toward Nino.

Nino nods silently at the implied instructions.

“And full wardrobe for Sunday morning,” Ohno continues. “We’re doing number 15.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Yamada-chan answers, readily taking notes. “I’ll get them ready. Only Matsumoto?”

“Yes. And no need for extras, Sho-kun. It’s just rehearsal.”

“Okay.”

Ohno pauses for a while, sorting his thoughts openly, everyone else waiting patiently, before he adds, “And a bed for Sunday night.”

Nino can’t help but stiffen the moment he hears the word ‘bed’ come out of Ohno’s mouth. He was half-listening to the technical details, nothing that he needed to tune into though sometimes it’s useful to know nonetheless; Sho usually will keep him updated later or he can always check back with Aiba if he wants. But at the mention of the ‘bed’, the images he’s been so busy repressing for the last few weeks come back to mind. Lips. A pair of lips. His and, now he has the other owner of said lips sitting right in front him.

Nino glances quickly across the table and finds Matsumoto is staring at him openly this time. He turns his attention back to his hands in his lap right away, slumping his shoulders further, trying to not attract any attention because he is almost certain Aiba will notice if he’s paying any attention to Nino. Perhaps not, nothing to worry about, not now, because Aiba is busy with his notes and Ohno’s instructions.

He glances across the table again, quicker this time, and this time finds Matsumoto no longer starting in his direction, and furiously taking notes instead. Can it be that the man is nervous? Not as nervous as he is perhaps, but still nervous, even just a little bit. He doesn’t know how he should take the knowledge yet but at least it’s something to think about. He has till Sunday to prepare himself. He’d rather not spend more time in the room with Matsumoto than necessary right now—which makes him even more eager to check the script for its scene numbers, or wipe the sweat from his palms without Sho knowing. If he’s gotten the numbering correctly—plus there’s a bed, what else can that be—which he’s sure he did but there’s no harm in double-checking, they will definitely rehearse the bed scene on Sunday. He and Matsumoto will—sooner than he expected then. And if he’s gotten the hint correctly, Matsumoto is at the moment trying to decide whether he should talk to Nino or not. Nino doesn’t want that to happen right now.

“We’re doing number 9 then. Do we need full lighting, Sensei?” Takeda asks. “It’d be a bit difficult—“

“No need to splurge. We’ll be rehearsing some positioning and dialogue. I only need the bed, nothing else. Oh, a stand light will be enough, or something to enhance the flash.”

“I can get few stand lights for Sunday night. No problem.”

Sho writes a few more notes down. And so does Matsumoto, Nino notices. The man looks like a kid against a baseball fence, at the first school game. Someone needs to tell him that the game hasn’t even started yet—because Nino’s beginning to have doubts whether he’s nice enough to break the man’s bubble of excitement himself.

“And I’ll get the arrangements for the truck ready by tomorrow then,” Aiba says to Yamada-chan, already anticipating her question.

“Thanks. Let’s try Saturday morning,” she says.

“Consider it done.” Aiba sees that Sho’s taking notes and then turns again to Ohno. “Is there anything else, Sensei?” Aiba prompts him when Ohno seems like he’s still lost in his thoughts, not yet finished giving out instructions.

“Nothing on the schedule. Though,” Ohno says, “I’ll need new lenses, Sho-kun.”

“I’ll double check that order later,” Sho answers this time. “I guess the scheduling meeting is done then.” He turns his gaze to everyone on the room. “Do you have any questions?” he asks Matsumoto specifically.

Matsumoto shakes his head. “Nothing that I can think of.”

“Good. We’re done then,” Sho says, before turning to Nino. “You definitely don’t have any questions, right?”

“I might have,” Nino says. “But you’ll never know.”

“Great. I’ll text both of you,” Sho concludes quickly, gesturing to Nino and Matsumoto, “about your pick-up arrangements. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Can Takeda-san and I go then?” Ohno says. “All my shooting plans are at my office, so if you don’t mind.”

“And I need to go to Yamada-chan’s office to approve the delivery details.”

“Meeting’s done then. Thank you everyone for coming. I’ll get those lens details to you this afternoon,” Sho says to the whole room and to Ohno. “And I think I forgot something. I need to send Nino and Matsumoto the previous memo. I’ll be with you in a minute, Aiba-chan.”

Nino puts his script back into his bag, straightening his posture and getting ready to leave.

“Let me send this email to both of you before you go,” Sho says, focus back on his laptop, fingers typing rapidly.

“Why do I have to wait for you to finish working first?” Nino says, slumping back against his chair.

He’s fully aware that it’s only Sho and him and Matsumoto—who’s still taking notes, seriously, what is he taking notes of?—left in the room now. He has a night shift in two hours, already thinking about getting some quick dinner and going through the script again before his shift begins. “I need to get to my shift. We’re all done here, right?”

“In a minute, Nino.”

Nearly half minute passes, and Nino stays in his chair, gaze fixed on his old jeans, his shoes, his bag, that nice a pair of sneakers under the opposite table. He fights the urge to look up because he knows he will find Matsumoto looking at him, he can feel it right now. The man will want to talk about it, and he doesn’t, so he waits.

“Okay, done. Just be sure to check the latest details I just sent you,” Sho says finally, “and you can go now. We’ll see you Saturday.”

“Finally.” With a relief, Nino bolts to the door and leaves the office as fast as he can.

 

“Why do you have to start on the weekend? You know how busy we are on weekends?”

“Not that busy,” Nino says, half-listening to the run-on light protests as he sorts the magazine rack. “And it wasn’t my decision, okay, so there’s that.”

Yuriko has been grumbling the whole week about his schedule, about his going away for too long, about Ryo-chan’s latest mishaps with the salad delivery, about a pack of stray puppies she found in a box on the way back to her apartment the day before yesterday, about everything that happened when Nino had a day off. It doesn’t seem to make any sense to him but he gratefully accepts the distraction, anything that can keep his mind off the upcoming rehearsal—after all it’s only a rehearsal. He still has to go through the whole two months of shooting, with the man he’s going to share a bed with, with the man he’s going to meet every day, with the man who looks so good, very sure of himself, wearing a loose floral shirt, white tank top under, hair styled a bit differently but Nino can recognize those eyebrows anywhere. Wait. What? He doesn’t just—

“Just. Why?”

“Why what?” Yuriko turns from the shelves she’s working on to the magazine rack. “What?” She looks over Nino’s shoulder to see Nino’s gaze is fixed on a woman’s magazine with a candid snapshot of man, a striking man, wearing a hideous shirt smiling over a watermelon. “What? Is that what I think it is? Who I think he is?”

Nino puts down the magazines he’s been holding, closes his eyes and waits for Yuriko to connect the dots—he’s sure that she’s going to get it eventually. “Can I switch with Ryo-chan? I can do garbage. No problem. This is getting even more ridiculously embarrassing.”

“He’s that famous?” Yuriko says, stepping closer to the rack, picking up the magazine in question. Realization dawns slowly on her. “And he’s gorgeous, in a way, I don’t know, he’s weirdly attractive. Nice job, Nino.”

“How much is that?”

Yuriko smirks. “980 yen. And it says it has features on the most recent Summer Collection. And a full spread at that. Oh. I bet it’s a nice spread, and summer always means more skin, less fabric. You should definitely buy this.”

“If you’re half as interested as you say you are, you buy it.”

“You saw this first. So you buy it. Plus I’m not buying a magazine so you can borrow it and ogle at your crush during work hours. Naturally, I am going to borrow it later from you to finally get a full glimpse of your crush. I also can get up-to-date info on what to wear this summer. Win-win!”

“But you can ogle, too. Think of it as an investment.”

“Maybe I’m not interested in ogling, or even in investing. Maybe I can live without ever reading this particular magazine.”

“Maybe you are. This is a women’s magazine. There must be something you’re interested in. Come on. Consider it research. An investment and research.”

“But I don’t need to research a girls’ magazine, much less invest in one. That’s your cue. Plus I read my magazines for free at my usual diner, thank you very much. I take it you’re interested. I’m just going to cut it from your next paycheck.”

“You’re going to do that anyway right?” Nino finally gives up; the more he looks at the cover the more he wants to rip open the plastic right away and get down to ogling after all. Why fight the inevitable? Yuriko-chan is going to crack him sooner or later. “Fine. I’ll get Ryo-chan behind the register and we can take this to the back.”

 

Much to Nino’s relief, he doesn’t spot Matsumoto Saturday morning. He’s told to go to the basement of their office and finds that front security clears him immediately. He steps down the steep steps to find the basement resembling an underground nightclub, complete with the barstools and stage. There’s no harsh lighting—not yet, but he knows there will be a lot of it later—and only a few people from the art department along with Takeda-san are around. A sleep-deprived Sho greets him on under the stairs. “Nice timing. Go see Yamada-chan. Go right, the room by the loading dock. She’ll fix you up. We have 30 minutes.”

“Okay,” Nino says, all serious and without any biting remarks this time. He circles the empty stage to get to the right wing and walks down the hall.

“Good morning.” Nino enters the makeshift corner.

“Oh, Nino-san, good morning. Right on time,” Yamada-chan greets him back. “I’m ready for you. Let’s do your hair first. Here, let’s put your bag over here.”

“Okay,” Nino complies. Setting aside his bag and cap, he then sits on the stool and let Yamada-chan work. No fancy decorations—as expected of a cheap production and Sho. Yamada-chan continues to do something with his hair and face in silence while Nino sits, looking at his own reflection in the small mirror, reciting the whole script in his head, keeping his own mood on check, trying to be still and patient; finally work will begin.

In under 20 minutes, Yamada-chan has finished her work; Nino has his hair styled, and he’s donned a sleek black suit, a loose tie around his neck and a ridiculous purple corsage on his chest.

“Done,” Yamada-chan announces while circling him to inspect her work. “Do you need something else? Anything I missed?”

“You said it’s done so it’s done, Yamada-chan,” Nino replies, adding a sleepy wink. “You know best.”

She smiles tiredly at him. “Just don’t flip this seam, right here,” she adds, showing where the cufflinks should be. “The suit is not yet done. I didn’t make the morning deadline.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s get you to the set then.”

Ohno-sensei is already on set by the time they get there, fiddling with the camera with one of his assistants. Nino says his greeting and waits just in front of the table as Yamada-chan talks to Ohno first. He notices there’s a keyboard on the center stage now, lit by two stand lights.

“Good morning, Nino. All ready, I see,” Aiba greets him, holding what appears to be a giant mug of hot steaming coffee.

“Yeah, good morning to you too,” Nino replies. “Would it be too much if I asked for coffee?”

“No problem, I can get you some,” Aiba says, staying where he is. “You went straight to Yamada-chan, I see.”

“Yeah, Sho-chan forgot his manners and didn’t offer anything at all.”

“You know how he gets at times like this. Seriously, I can get you one. Just after I finish this one, because I don’t think I can move if I don’t down this properly.”

“It’s not even begun yet and you both are overworked already.”

“Well, as Sho-chan always says, we can always sleep later,” Aiba says, “and everything is on schedule, so that’s good.”

“Good then,” Nino absently replies. Yamada-chan is pointing at him, before Ohno-sensei speaks again in low voice. He can’t hear anything, so he keeps on standing, waiting for further instructions.

“How’s the crush going by the way?” Aiba asks, chuckling over his mug when he sees Nino rolls his eyes. “You should talk to him, you know. I think he wants to talk to you.”

“Can you just stop it with that word? And what good would it bring? I’m still going to be nervous.”

There’s genuine concern in Aiba’s voice. “I think he’s also nervous. You must be if this is your first production. We’re not exactly doing a normal film shoot after all. At least you two could be nervous together. That’d be nice.”

Nino was going to respond with a verbal jab or a nudge or a step on Aiba’s left sneaker but Yamada-chan beckons him to come closer, so he only hisses his answer and walks toward the table leaving Aiba with his steaming coffee.

“Yes?”

“Ohno-sensei has a problem with the color of corsage, but for rehearsal, we’re going to go with it anyway.” Yamada-chan reaches for his collar and fixes it, smoothing the creases.

“Okay.”

“So you’re all ready then,” she says. “I’ll be over there if you need me, Sensei.”

Ohno nods, and pats the chair beside him. “Have a seat.”

Nino sits and waits.

“So, you read the scene, right?” Ohno puts his camera down on the table, focusing on Nino now. “I want a full song. Can you do a full song?”

“Sure. What kind of song?”

Ohno stays silent for a while, humming as he gives the question a deep thought. Nino feels a surge of nostalgia all of a sudden, the thrumming excitement of finally being back on camera, given the chance to act out a story, being in Ohno’s work, and this time it’s even in a more important role than being the bikini girls’ assistant—

“Something seductive?” Ohno finally decides.

“Sorry?”

“Something melodious that you think will attract the man you love to enter your honey trap.”

Nino frowns for a while, searching his memory for a particular song that could fit that absurd description; he learned during his first project with Ohno that there’s nothing too ridiculous for the man. It’s rather scary to realize that he’s not even flinching at such directions. “I don’t think there’s any in particular. Do you need the lyrics too?”

“No, no lyrics, that’d be too much. A melody?”

“I can try to play something sultry. Some high notes with a slow tempo.”

“Good. We’ll try that,” Ohno says, nodding his agreement. “What I want to is mostly to work on your posture. We’ll be using a grand piano later, so keep that in mind. There’ll be some adjustments, but you know how that works, right?”

“Yes, Sensei. Matsu-nii CGI?”

Ohno chuckles. “Can’t work on a film without his help, really.”

“I got it.”

“Good. Stand by at the stool, will you? We’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

The moment he sits down, the sensation comes back at him in waves; being under the spotlight—especially by a keyboard, which he imagines as a grand piano after all, emptying his mind and channeling the longing that reflects in his eyes, wondering when the man he’s been waiting for will walk through the door.

“The door is over there.” Ohno points to the left side of the stage. He now hovers close, camera in hand, and assistant right behind him. “Slouch a bit but keep your head off the keys, staring straight.” He gives instruction after instruction. “Yes, like that. Keep it like that and play.”

Nino complies.

 

The Sunday location shoot is in a district across town, an apartment in a quiet residential area. Apparently this is where they’ve splurged? Nino thinks as he meets the assistant in front of the building. He lets the guy lead him to the fifth floor to enter a loft and meet Sho.

“Follow me,” Sho says in a low tone, hurriedly walking away from the entrance.

“What?” Nino whispers back, stumbling a bit as he follows. As he navigates his way toward the next room, he notices that the set is flooded with natural light, with a few stand lights creating subtle shadows. The vast large windows show the scenery of dusk falling rapidly on the city below. Sho leads him to a small bedroom they apparently arranged as the makeup and wardrobe room.

Yamada-chan looks up at them entering the room but doesn’t move from her chair to work on Nino’s makeup like the day before. She continues to sip her mug leisurely. “They’re still at it?” she asks Sho.

Sho sighs. “Yeah. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to end soon though.”

“What happened? I’m not late, am I?”

“You’re not late. We are.”

“What? How?”

Sho sighs even more loudly, taking a seat on the stool with his back facing the mirror, and he gestures Nino to do the same.

“There’s no other chair,” Nino says, “except if you expect me to kick Yamada-chan out of her chair. But that’d be rude.”

His remark draws a giggle from Yamada-chan across the room.

“You’d kick me out of my chair anytime,” Sho says, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. Nino congratulates himself for a remark well done. “Just use any crate over there. Nothing except Aiba-chan’s frantic call can get me out of this one. I’ve been standing since this morning. My blood is not circulating well enough.”

“Here, use this instead,” Yamada-chan says, bringing the chair for Nino. “I’ll get both of you some coffee. You, especially, look like you really need another one, Sho-kun.”

“I already lost count of how many cups I’ve had today, but thank you all the same, Yamada-chan,” Sho says as she leaves them alone in the room.

Nino thanks her for the chair before sitting down, setting his chair right across Sho. “What happened?”

“We’re two scenes behind. It’s already 6. I only set the room rental till 9. Dusk will soon pass. And we’re two scenes behind. I don’t think you’ll be able to rehearse tonight. We’re two scenes behind!”

“You said it three times in one breath. What happened?”

“Your crush is ruining everything.” Sho slumps in his seat.

“Stop using that word, will you? Soon it’s going to be his nickname, I just know it.” Nino rolls his eyes and smiles afterward when it gets another small smile from Sho. “What did he do? Was he late? Did he break a camera? Did he stumble and destroy Takeda-chan’s lighting arrangement? Did he make Yamada-chan cry? Did he kiss Aiba-chan?”

Sho laughs at the last question before his face turns dark again. “Worse. He’s talking back to Ohno-sensei.”

“Huh?”

Before Sho can give further explanation, his radio beeps and Nino can hear Aiba on the other line whispering. “Sho-chan. Here. Now.”

Sho immediately stands, almost tipping the stool, and runs toward the door, leaving Nino blinking in his seat.

Yamada-chan appears by the door, holding two cups of coffee. “You want to see the live commotion? I have coffee,” she says, raising the cups a little bit into the air.

“Well, since you’ve been kind enough to get me one,” Nino says. “I’ll take one of those. Thank you.”

 

Yamada-chan leads the way back to the living room, and now Nino can see the cables clearly and navigate his way better. She sits beside Takeda-san, sitting on the edge of a long bench in an unlit corner of the room, and offers him the coffee.

“Thanks,” Takeda says to her before seeing Nino taking a seat beside her. “Hey Nino, I didn’t see you coming in.”

“Good evening. I just got here,” Nino greets him, settling next to Yamada-chan. They have a good view of what’s happening under the spotlight. Sho and Aiba are on the far side of the room, while Ohno-sensei is behind the monitor talking with his assistants. And now that he finally gets a good look at everything, Nino notices the set—a single-seat sofa with a low table—is not empty. Matsumoto is sitting in the seat, waiting, dressed in only a white shirt and trousers, looking like he has had a long day of work, which is probably true since the rehearsal started in the morning.

Takeda sips his coffee gratefully. “I hope they settle this soon. I need the stand lights back by midnight.”

“I think they are going to skip the last scene and cancel the bed scene in the end,” Yamada-chan says. “You must be disappointed, Nino-san.”

He almost chokes on his coffee, before he turns and sees both Takeda and Yamada-chan sending knowing grins at him. “I can see that you’ve all been talking with Aiba-chan. I’m so going to throttle him.”

“Well at least some action is going to happen if you do that,” Takeda says, with a hint of bitterness. “That young man was really into it. Very enthusiastic fellow.”

“Well, he’s new at this,” Yamada-chan replies. “He just needs to get used to the work.”

“I don’t really care. As long as he doesn’t upset the schedule, he’s fine,” Takeda retorts back. “Sho-kun is already near his boiling point.”

Yamada-chan giggles at that. “That’s some fast work all right. Your crush really knows how to ruin a day’s work, Nino-san.”

Nino rolls his eyes in vain. “He’s not my—“

He stops midway when there’s movement on the set. Ohno enters the set and walks toward Matsumoto while signaling Sho to come join them. The three men have a short conversation, mostly involving Sho shoving his tablet toward Ohno, Matsumoto trying to say something, but Ohno-sensei cutting him off with more instructions.

“Takeda-san,” Sho calls out from the set. “Can you come here for a second, please?”

“Yes,” Takeda responds immediately, handing his half-empty coffee cup to Yamada-chan and getting one of his boys to follow him onto the set.

Ohno-sensei points out his instructions for Takeda-san. Sho talks a little bit longer with Matsumoto before calling out again, “Yamada-chan, touch up, please!”

“Okay,” Yamada-chan answers, handing the half-empty coffee cup to Nino, leaving him alone on the long bench to go to the set.

“One cannot have enough coffee, I guess,” Nino says to himself, and continues to sip his coffee while he watches the scene unfold in front of him.

 

Over the next few minutes, as he stays on his seat, Nino remembers that the scene Matsumoto is rehearsing is scene number 15. From what he remembers, it’s a living room scene with Matsumoto listening to his radio, making phone calls with mostly monologues, and circling the set, with—now he can see why Sho is getting impatient—afternoon lighting from the vast window. It’s completely dark outside now, all the lighting coming from the stand lights, and they are still doing the scene. How that could be beneficial to rehearse he doesn’t know, but apparently Ohno-sensei wants to continue, so they are continuing. At first glance there’s nothing wrong with the scene, in his opinion. They are doing the first two cuts rather smoothly; Ohno-sensei stops the unnecessary turn Matsumoto is making at first and accepts the second even with the unnecessary turn addition. They stop for a while for a sequence check and Matsumoto is talking with Ohno-sensei again.

Realization finally hits Nino after thirty minutes have passed—his coffee finished and now he’s sipping Takeda’s leftovers—and they are still on the same scene: they are using too much time to stop between takes, with Matsumoto talking to Ohno after every take. They then have to spend more time to set Matsumoto’s position back when he comes back onto the set.

No wonder Sho is ready to fly off the fucking handle.

 

An hour later, it’s Aiba who finds him still sitting on the long chair. He looks relieved to see Nino and settles in immediately beside him. “Here you are. Sho-chan sent me to tell you we’re cancelling tonight.”

“I can see that.”

Aiba leans against the wall and slowly his head finds Nino’s shoulder. “Today has been hell,” he sighs.

“I can see that, too,” Nino says, keeping his tone harsh but shoulder still to support the extra weight.

“You are dismissed, Sho-chan said,” Aiba continues. “Next schedule will be sent to your email tomorrow. If there’s a new schedule, that is. Which I don’t think will exist anyway. We can’t afford another rehearsal.”

“Okay,” Nino says. “I’d offer you coffee but I finished mine _and_ Takeda-san’s, just while waiting.”

Aiba laughs weakly. “You should really talk some sense into that crush of yours.”

“Aiba-chan,” Nino says, tone warning but still not moving, “I bet if I shift suddenly to the left, your head is going to hit the bench pretty hard. It’s going to give you a mild concussion but I’m not going to regret it even a bit because I need to get back to you for gossiping with Takeda-san.”

Aiba ignores the empty threat, too tired to even retort back. “I don’t even know how I’m going to function during the midnight meeting Sho has just now scheduled.”

“Mhmm.”

“But I was being serious, Nino. You should really talk to him. Give him some insight, some words of advice from a concerned and nice _senpai_ or something like that. This cannot happen again.”

“Why am I on babysitting duty all of a sudden?”

“Because you’re the only one who can at the moment?”

“That’s not going to work on me.”

“Oh, come on, Nino. Just talk to him, will you? Sho-chan will appreciate the effort. Heck, the whole team will. I definitely will. Free dinner for a month? Starting from the day this production wraps up, which hopefully will finally come.”

“I smell bribery.”

“Then you know I’m pretty much desperate.”

“That’s so cheap of you.”

“You’re cheap right back.”

At the weak jab, Nino can only sigh. At the end, it doesn’t take very much for Aiba to convince him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Nice,” Aiba says, still not moving from what it seems to be a comfortable position. “You can take advantage of him, too. We wouldn’t care. In fact, we’ll be rooting for you.”

“I’m so going to shift,” Nino says, “and your head should be hitting this bench right about now.”

Aiba ignores the threat again. “By the way, are you seeing Sho-chan panicking and trying to find me already?”

Nino scans the set quickly and can only make out that Sho’s still talking to Ohno-sensei at the other end of the room. “No, Ohno-sensei still has him busy.”

“Good. I can stay like this for a little longer,” Aiba says, with much relief. “And you’ll talk to him, right?”

Nino doesn’t answer immediately. There are pro and cons, of course; he’s been avoiding the man, that’s fact. But he cannot avoid him forever, sooner or later—he was prepared to get to that sooner tonight but it didn’t happen—the scene will need to happen. Cancelled rehearsal or not, they are going to do it after all. So perhaps better to deal with Matsumoto now, taking one for the team, and settling their footing sooner. “Can dinner be hamburger for the whole month?”

“No,” Aiba says and Nino can feel the smile as Aiba’s cheek moves on his shoulder. “You still need to eat some green things.”

“Dammit.”

“He’s with Yamada-chan right now. You can rescue her from him and accomplish your mission. Wheedle him to buy you fancy dinner or something.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. I hate you, too.”

 

Just as Aiba said, Nino finds Matsumoto with Yamada-chan in the wardrobe room, inquiring about the trench coat he was using during the first rehearsal scene. The man is already out of his costume, now dressed casually and seemingly ready to go.

“Oh, Nino-san.” Yamada-chan sees him first, and when Matsumoto turns to find him by the door, she makes a small gesture, hinting for Nino to get the man away from her. “I’m done with Matsumoto-san. He’s free to go if you’re waiting for him.”

Nino aims a glare at Yamada-chan. Matsumoto misses the glare and asks instead, “You’re waiting for me?”

“You can say that,” Nino says. “Come on, let’s go. I should escort you out of the building immediately.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s just go. We’re done here, I believe.”

“But I’m not—“

“Just go with him, Matsumoto-san. I’ll have a meeting in half an hour.” Yamada-chan smiles to soften her not-so-subtle dismissal.

Matsumoto frowns. “A meeting? At this hour?”

“It’s mostly because of you,” she says under her breath, before smiling again. “I’ll make sure everything’s ready per your requests by the next shoot. Good work today.”

“Good work today, Yamada-chan.” Nino gestures at Matsumoto to come with him. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

>  
> 
> – NIGHT
> 
> EXTREME CLOSE UP.

The night air hits them as soon as they step out of the apartment building. It’s pleasantly silent in the residential area and the breeze is warm against their skin.

“Are we going somewhere?” Matsumoto asks, standing next to Nino as they come to a sudden halt just in front of the building.

Nino turns slowly toward him. It isn’t entirely nervous-material now that he’s standing outside with him, away from the film set, and it’s just them. But they are going to talk about work again later, and just like that, the nervousness creeps back in. He lets out a loud sigh. “How about some ramen?”

“What?”

“I’m treating you dinner. How’s that? Is ramen okay?”

“I guess,” Matsumoto says, not sounding sure at all. He tries to search for something, staring more at Nino’s face before he fully grasps the invitation. “Wait. You’re treating me dinner?”

“Well, I’m hungry, you’re probably hungry, and I will definitely have Sho-chan reimburse the bill.”

Matsumoto laughs. “Really?”

“Really,” Nino says, also offering a smile in return. Matsumoto stands blocking the street light, and he can only see a silhouette of the sharp features and feel the stare. “I saw a decent cheap shop near the station. Can we go there now?”

“You sure are weird,” Matsumoto says, gesturing Nino to lead the way.

Nino shrugs—it’s going to be a long night, and exciting all the same. Aiba is going to owe him a lot, and Sho is going to pay the price; better enjoy it while it last. Dinner with Matsumoto? Who knew it would happen so soon?—and starts to walk down the road.

Matsumoto follows him, and soon they fall into a comfortable rhythm. They walk at a leisurely pace, passing a quiet park and a few more rows of houses. Nino’s almost hoping for rain to suddenly pour down on them, or anything to distract him from the ‘obligation’ to strike up a conversation. But Matsumoto doesn’t seem to make any effort to change to mood. It’s Nino who’s asked him to dinner after all. Matsumoto is just coming out of courtesy, being a newcomer in all this. Right, Nino’s the _senpai_ here.

They approach the last block before the station. It has to start now or they will reach the shop and the moment will be gone. Nino forces the question out of his mouth. “So, what happened today?”

“Sorry?” Matsumoto turns to him with a frown, pace halted from the sudden question.

“Today,” Nino repeats his question slowly and with emphasis. “On the film set. What happened?”

“Rehearsal did?”

“You’re pretty thick for a good-looking guy,” Nino says, wondering whether being straightforward is going to work with this guy. “Why do I have to rephrase everything?”

“I don’t understand where you’re getting at,” Matsumoto says, both apologetic and sounding genuinely confused. “And you’re very direct.”

“I am.”

“Somehow it’s charming but not that much.”

“And you’re not as thick as you seem to be, I guess,” he manages to say, flushing at the vague compliment. For a split second he loses his snarky charade, warmth creeping up to his cheek, grateful for the dim lighting the street light provides. “Anyway, why are you posing so many questions?”

“Now?”

“No, during filming.” Nino doesn’t bother to prevent himself from rolling his eyes openly, keeping his tone sharp with a grumble. “I’ll take the not-as-thick compliment back right now, thank you.”

“I wasn’t—“

“You sure were. I was there.”

The answer makes Matsumoto halt suddenly, staring Nino in disbelief. “Really? The whole time?”

“No. Just as scheduled,” Nino says, stopping to turn and face Matsumoto; the crossing light is flaring red at the intersection anyway. “You do know that we were scheduled to shoot our scene during the evening.”

Matsumoto walks a few steps forward to get closer to Nino. “I do. And I was wondering why they cancelled that. The night is still young. You can get evening shots anytime.”

“Not anytime. It says it on the script. Dusk.” The crossing light still flares red, and they don’t move even though there are no cars passing through the intersection.

“Yeah, so?”

“Definitely taking the not-as-thick comment back now. Do you how important dusk is to a filming team?”

“No.”

Matsumoto sounds genuinely confused and Nino can’t help but pity the man a little. The light turns green and he walks ahead to cross the road. He hears Matsumoto follow him; a few steps later they are walking side by side again.

“If it says day or night or afternoon,” Nino begins, “that means they could create day or night or afternoon. But if your script says it’s dusk—or dawn—that means you don’t mess with your time. Dusk only happens once a day and it needs to happen at that precise time.”

Nino turns to see Matsumoto. He doesn’t respond and appears to be thinking; perhaps Aiba-chan was right, and the man just hasn’t considered it until just now. He’s got a nice profile, by the way. Nino has to force himself to look ahead and watch the road. He continues, “Meaning that the shot today, the one we should practice is botched because they missed dusk. And they missed dusk because?”

This time Matsumoto responds, trying to complete Nino’s sentence. “They were still doing my scenes.”

“And they were still doing your scenes because?”

“They’ve been doing it since morning.”

Matsumoto is getting a hang of it. Just a little bit more. “And the reason they’ve been doing it—continuously—since morning is because?”

“We haven’t finished.”

Maybe not a little bit. “My patience is running thin here, Matsumoto. The reason they haven’t finished, or to be exact, could not finish on schedule is because?”

“Of me?” Matsumoto stops walking again.

Nino claps his hands, making a fancy turn to find Matsumoto staring at him in true disbelief. “Good. I’ll take the thick comment back right now. Don’t ruin it.” He then realizes that they’re at the last turn before the station, with people around, and it’s not good to cause a scene here. They don’t appear to be drunk enough to be excused for being a public disturbance.

“Wait. Because of me?”

Nino leaves the sentence unanswered and points ahead instead. “We’re almost there here. See? _Ganbou Ramen_. Come on.”

 

They settle on a table for two near the back; most of the patrons are salarymen getting the quick dinner fix. Nino gets the smallest serving while Matsumoto dazedly points at a dinner set without inquiring anything. Nino sips his hot tea slowly as Matsumoto recovers from the shock. Their order comes and Nino begins eating even though Matsumoto only stares on his bowl. “You’re awfully quiet for a man who has just been treated dinner.”

“I thought I was being helpful,” Matsumoto finally says. He holds his chopsticks just above his bowl and stops again.

“Now?”

“During the rehearsal today.”

“No point in beating yourself up now that it’s all said and done,” Nino says, slurping his noodles noisily. “And here I am being nice because you look like you’re seriously down.”

Matsumoto turns to him with an expression that says Nino isn’t wrong, which simply gets Nino worried for a second. All the frustration and other things he can't comprehend at the moment flash in those eyes; which is good because that draws Nino’s attention to that sharp gaze, instead of titling back down to those pouting lips. That’ll cancel all good intentions that he’s having right now in a split second.

Nino puts his chopsticks down and decides to give the man a small break. “Listen, I’m just going to say this once. You need to know that they’ll ask if they want any input from us actors. But basically, you just need to do what they want you to do. Speaking from experience, I can also tell you that Ohno-sensei won’t be needing anything. He has his own vision, and no one gets it but him. If you don’t understand something, ask for clearer directions. If no one asks you about anything, then there’s no need to say anything, just do the job.”

“But that’d be—“

“Correct? Ethically correct? Politically correct? Call it whatever you want, doing your job is still doing your job. It’s not the place nor time to do anything else. We’re there to work. We’re getting paid for it.”

“Barely,” Matsumoto says with a small smile.

“Still, there’s money,” Nino continues. “And if you enjoy this acting thing, perhaps you should start accepting business rule #4.”

“Number four?” Matsumoto repeats, but Nino doesn’t explain further. Instead he turns back to his soggy ramen. He finishes his food in record time, giving nothing back to Matsumoto who finally decides to start eating his now-definitely-soggy noodles.

“You’re not just a little weird,” Matsumoto says in between slurps, “you’re truly weird.”

“Weird gets me pretty far.” Nino pats his stomach, setting the bowl further to the side of the table and reaching for his hot tea again. He decides to give the man—the sad man, if he can add, the sad man who’s been down and now has to eat some soggy ramen because his, haha, nice _senpai_ decided to treat him dinner while setting him straight—another small break. “Remember, that was some _senpai_ advice you just got.”

Matsumoto lets out a bitter laugh. “I thought I knew about how things work, but it turns out I didn’t know anything about it.”

He keeps his tone light; this Matsumoto just had a different perception, that’s all, and now he knows. “There’s nothing complicated about it. Actors act. That’s all,” he says.

Matsumoto frowns at the last statement, turning back to his soggy ramen. Nino lets the silence hang and they stay silent for a while, Matsumoto deep in thought and Nino fighting to finish the ramen.

The first thing Matsumoto says when he’s finished his bowl and is now playing with his iced tea is, “I thought you didn’t like me.”

Nino lets out a loud snort, followed by a giggle. “What?”

“You were staring at me rudely during the introduction party and you didn’t even spare me a glance during the production meeting.”

Nino hides his smile behind his hot teacup. “And that makes me not like you how?”

“Well, I thought, I just have this thought,” Matsumoto says, tone getting lower and lower, “that you might be not comfortable working with me, that maybe you don’t consider me as an actor knowing that I model and this is my first film project and now that I made today’s shooting off schedule and—“

“Too much information.” Nino simply cuts off the on-going ramble. “I like you just fine. I think you are good-looking. Strikingly, annoyingly, amazingly good-looking.”

“Huh?” Matsumoto blinks twice, sharp eyes focusing on Nino’s expression, seeking any indication of sarcasm and failing to find anything but Nino’s set expression. He lets out a small laugh. “Really? Oh, thank you. _Really_?”

“Really,” Nino says, also offering a smile in return. “Let’s leave it at that right now, okay?”

“Was that another piece of _senpai_ advice?” Matsumoto says, eyes sparkling now with what Nino can identify as delight—he sure hopes it’s delight.

He rolls his eyes at the question. “It was a compliment, you jerk.”

The deep and rich sound of Matsumoto’s genuine laughter in response is like music to his ears; he would spend a lot of time and effort trying to draw the same sound from the man again and again. “You’re so weird.”

“And we’re back to weird. I think we’re done here then,” Nino says. “Let me ask for the bill. Hope that dinner set doesn’t cost a lot.”

“I’m sorry?” Matsumoto offers, his bright expression contrary to the apology.

“You’re a fast learner,” Nino smirks back to him. “I knew it.”

 

During primary shooting days, Nino’s schedule doesn’t allow him to meet with Matsumoto. He works with Ohno-sensei and the crew, completing one scene after another, following the scheduling to the dot—except once or twice when they encounter minor technical details. He’s witnessed Ohno-sensei change the scene details six times before getting what he wanted; he’s giggled over Sho’s mini fit of rage when the catering delivery comes late one afternoon; he’s had to apply his own makeup to keep up with the scene when Yamada-chan was late one morning; and he’s finally kicked Aiba-chan hard in the shin for loudly squealing ‘Nino, your crush is here’ when Matsumoto visits his shoot.

“Ouch, that wasn’t nice of you,” Aiba pouts in pain, but his eyes are shining with glee.

“You weren’t nice first,” Nino replies, suddenly aware of everything; his concentration’s completely blown by the simple presence of the other man.

They are finally getting down to scene number 5; this time a shiny white piano is placed in the middle of the set—Nino doesn’t even want to know how Takeda-san managed to fit it into the basement. He’s already in the black suit; it fits perfectly now that Yamada-chan has done her complete magic—the corsage is light yellow now. All thoughts about Matsumoto on set, or that Sho’s forgotten about giving him a coffee refill again, or that Aiba is still wiggling his eyebrows, are set aside when Ohno-sensei calls for him to enter the set. The stool is the same, and the height is already perfect. He gives the keys a light brush of his fingers and takes his seat in the center of the spotlight, waiting for instructions.

“I need a change of battery,” Ohno instructs his assistant while walking toward Nino, waving the camera in his hand. “And give me the .72.” The assistant takes the camera and moves quickly to the monitor section.

“Nino, we did this before,” Ohno says, standing by the piano next to him, touching the keys lightly.

“Yes.”

“But you’re nervous now.”

Nino flushes. “Sensei, I’m fine. It’s not going to—“

Ohno smiles at him. “Which is good, I think, because I need you nervous during the first few bars. You can play smoother later. That’s better for the scene.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Ohno says, confirming before pointing out more directions. “The door is still over there. Slouch and eyes off the keys. Remember?”

“I do.”

“I'll ask for a few repetitions. Just keep playing. You don’t need to stop, just go back a bar or two, and give me the mood I want.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Ohno then turns to get the scene going. “My camera, please! And Takeda-san? Two degrees down on the left filler, please.” Takeda-san complies without fuss and Ohno receives his camera again and gives his final instructions. “We’re starting. Call it!”

Two beats after the call is finished, Nino hits the first key.

His fingers dance as he delivers the exact melody that he played during the rehearsal. Ohno gets closer, setting the camera focus on his fingers, and Nino keeps on going. “Repeat!” He smoothly goes back to the refrain, just when Ohno was getting closer before, and reaches the same notes with the same precise hits. “Repeat!” Nino goes back again, in full control of the melody, playing the same bars. “Repeat.” And again. “Repeat.” And again, until he catches the sight of Ohno pulling back in the corner of his eyes, getting a larger frame of the scene. He sets his face straight and ready for the deep close ups.

Ohno’s instructions come in a distant low voice. “The door.” He looks over to the direction of the door and skips the refrain and goes on playing the bridge without altering his rhythm—it’s a much slower part of the song, much more sincere, much more depressed. He fixes his gaze at a point in the right direction and plays the next bar. “I’m not getting the seduction. Repeat.” He takes a deep breath and goes to the beginning of the bridge; this time he lets his eyelids drop slower, taking a more noticeable sigh each time. “That’s it. Keep it going. Repeat!” And he does the exact same action one more time.

Ohno doesn’t give any instructions when he finishes the bridge, so Nino segues to the next part of the song, the final part with the high notes. He hits the keys with more enthusiasm, going for closure at a fast pace. He is almost at the last bar when Ohno comes closer again. “Repeat.” Nino does as instructed, keeping his expression the same as before; he is almost at the last bar again when this time Ohno whispers his instructions. “Tears. I want to see tears.” And Nino can only take a deep breath, letting his emotions and the melody overwhelm him in sudden waves. Of a man he loves, of a man who leaves him, of a man who kicks him when he’s down, of a man who uses him for pleasure, of a man who practices on his heart.

“Repeat.”

Nino gasps and lets the melody takes him this time; there’s no boundaries, no end to the surge of feelings now enshrouding him, letting him hitting the high notes again and again, surrounding everything with sorrow and sadness and the man who never loves him. Tears run freely, as he keeps his blurry vision on the door, still waiting for the man who didn’t come back, who will never come back. “Back one bar. Wipe your tears. Gently.” He sighs this time; there’s no good in hoping for what you can’t get, there’s nothing good in this world, he cannot trust anyone and that’s fact. He uses a finger to wipe the tears from his right cheek, keeping the other hand playing the low tones.

He continues playing the last notes when Ohno doesn’t say repeat this time. The song is coming to an end, the seduction is long forgotten, the sorrow has taken over everything. “Finish it,” Ohno finally says, pulling back to a long shot distance and Nino complies. He turns his eyes away from the door and onto the keys, hits the last note and keeps his head down. He lets a long silence follows—Ohno doesn’t give any further instructions—and follows, until a precise moment, when it is utterly silent and he feels the pang of pain in his chest. His heart is devastatingly broken. He hits the last note again, keeping pressing until the last echo fades under the stage light, until his eyes are dry again, until the end.

“Cut. We’re done with this scene.”

Nino lets out a big sigh, and for a moment, silence still envelops the set before there’s round of applause. He can hear Aiba’s catcalls and Sho’s ‘yeah’s from under the dark shade beyond the stage light. Ohno approaches him, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “Nicely done. That’s a wrap.” And Nino grins to his audience, giving a two-finger salute.

 

Everyone is thanking him for letting them off work sooner than scheduled time when he exits the set. Takeda-san begins to break down the lighting stands and Yamada-chan is giving him a thumbs-up, saying she’s going to wait at the wardrobe room and he can take his time.

“This. _This_ is the only reason why I keep up with your being such a pain in the ass all the time.” Sho gives him a loose hug and a kiss on the cheek before going to finish the work for the day. “You’re as brilliant as ever.” Aiba failed-winks at him, leans in closer, and whispers ‘your crush was tearing up like a proud boyfriend,’ before quickly running along to follow Sho and avoid another hard kick to the shin.

Matsumoto is standing with his back against the wall, hands folded on his chest and a blank expression.

“Hey. I heard you were here since earlier,” Nino greets him. “And you were tearing up.”

Matsumoto doesn’t laugh at the jab as Nino has expected. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Now you’re being thick,” Matsumoto says. “Do what you just did now?”

“Play the piano?”

“How do you act like that?”

It isn’t comfortable at all to be under the scrutiny. Matsumoto keeps on staring at him, the way he was staring at the man during their first meeting; and now he knows how it is to be the one under an intense stare. “Was that another question for _senpai_?”

“It was a compliment, you jerk.” Matsumoto throws Nino’s words back at him but his tone remains tense and distant.

“That’s just acting,” Nino says, completely confused on how Matsumoto is reacting to the scene. He had expected praise—of course—or perhaps a harsh criticism, or a playful rib, but he certainly hadn’t expected this. What is this?

“That’s not acting,” Matsumoto says with eyes down as if in defeat but with a hint of awe and pride, “that was talent in its most mind-blowing form.”

 

The next week, Nino is about to leave his apartment for work when Sho’s frantically calling him to cancel the shoot for the next few days. “What’s with this sudden schedule change? Sho-chan, what happened? Yuriko-chan is not going to like this. This means I’m going to work on the weekend, right? I already promised to help her at the store.”

“Your crush is making things difficult. Again.”

“Stop using that word, will you? And I did talk to him. Talked some sense into him, just like Aiba-chan said. You finally approved the bill last week. I thought everything went smoothly with his shooting days.”

“Calling him your crush gives me so much satisfaction and I have to rant when I have to rant,” Sho rattles on. “I just got back from the apartment agent, trying to extend the rent for two more days and he gave me hell. It’ll cost us a lot and Ohno-sensei is not in his best mood, so basically everything is a mess. I still have to deal with—“

“Okay, I got it. Everything is a mess. But your dumping this on me will not get you anything. You should just—“

“At this rate, I don’t even know how we’re going to finish this goddamn film—“

“Okay. Too much information. Two days, right? I got it. Can you just rant to the next available person instead of taking it all out on me?”

“Two days,” Sho sighs heavily on the other end of the line. “Fine. I’ll call you later and dump all this crap on this nice lady sitting beside me on the bus stop. Thank you very much.”

Nino giggles at the thought of Sho ranting at a stranger. “Take care, Sho-chan.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, right? Nice to have you finally say nice things to me. I already feel better.”

“I save the nice words only for the ones who’re in a pinch.”

“Ass.”

Nino hangs up on Sho with laughter. What happened now? He and Matsumoto didn’t actually part ways nicely the last time they met but it wasn’t something to worry about. He was exhausted after an intense scene that day and Matsumoto has been, dare he say it, a little bit insecure, which is not a problem for him, since it’s about the production first before anything. But if that leads Matsumoto to cause another problem for the production that means that he needs to deal with it again. He curses Aiba-chan in his head, for being a faux voice of reason, and himself for being overly attached to—okay, perhaps it’s finally time to admit the fact—his crush.

 

Nino has just finished ringing up the last purchase, bowing slightly to the lady costumer when he sees Matsumoto entering the store.

“How?” Nino can only gape at the man approaching the counter. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Matsumoto stops right in front of him and asks calmly. “Can you teach me how to act?”

“What?”

“Now _that_ was direct,” Yuriko chirps as she materializes beside Nino. ”And you look so much better in person, Sir.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s not a costumer.” Nino tries to silence her. “And you. Answer my question. Why are you here?”

“Thank you.” Matsumoto sends a distracted smile toward Yuriko. He turns back to Nino, offering a weak smile. “Well, I think there’s—“

Yuriko turns to Nino. “I’m not shutting up. I am the boss here. Even I—“

“Sorry,” Matsumoto says, unsure of whether he should go on with his explanation or not.

“No, you’re not sorry, you’re here already. Don’t mind her.” Nino waves away Matsumoto’s apology, encouraging him to continue instead. “What happened? And how the hell did you know that I work here?”

“I think I messed up. Big time,” Matsumoto says quietly. “Aiba-chan told me that I can find you here, that you might be able to help me.”

“That jerk,” Nino says, both for the location tattletale and the so-not-subtle effort to have Matsumoto consult him.

Yuriko coos at the explanation. “Oh, so Aiba-chan definitely approves.”

Matsumoto frowns at her. “Approves of what?”

Nino cuts her off before she can respond more. “If I promise to call you boss lady for the rest of my employment here, will you shut up and stay the hell out of this?”

“No. This opportunity is way too good to pass up,” she replies firmly, staring openly at Matsumoto without flinching. “I can definitely see why you’re nervous.”

Matsumoto replies to her. “I'm not nervous. Not that much.”

“Yuriko-chan!” Nino says exasperatedly to her. “She doesn’t mean you, Matsumoto.”

“So you both are nervous?” Yuriko blatantly ignores Nino and starts to lean over the counter to give some space to the two of them and an opportunity to herself to observe. “That’s so sweet. I approve of this, too!”

Matsumoto reads the situation better this time, ignoring Yuriko’s nonsensical comments and directly responding to Nino. “Can we get coffee? Or lunch? Or anything you want? Somewhere we can talk. Please.”

“Oh. Your treat?” Yuriko turns her gaze to Nino and scoots closer. “A serious man after your weak heart, Nino. He even asks nicely.” She actually winks at Matsumoto. “You’re okay, Matsumoto, even if you take Nino away on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yuriko-chan! I swear—“

Matsumoto is left confused, but he isn’t shaken. “I did? And thanks but have we met you before? I feel like we haven’t. I can’t be sure though.”

“Well,” she says, ignoring Nino, who’s fuming in his spot, right back. She takes a not-so-subtle side-glance toward the magazine rack. “I can definitely say we’ve met before.”

“So we’ve met before? I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“Can we just—okay, wait. Wait a minute you two. Don’t start a conversation out of blue as if you were friends or something. Just stop talking for a minute.” Nino holds his hands out as a final effort to stop them both from talking. He turns to Yuriko, stepping closer to deliver his message clear. “First. _boss_ , can I have an extended lunch break?” Then he turns to Matsumoto. “And you. Will you just step outside and wait till I settle this with this bossy friend of mine? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“That’s boss lady to you, mister,” Yuriko scolds Nino, nudging him lightly.

“Whatever, I need—“

“I’m sorry. I’ve disturbed your work,” Matsumoto says, sounding heavily apologetic. “Yes, I’ll wait outside. I’m sorry.”

Yuriko shrugs, staying in her spot. “Well, I’m not going anywhere. I have a store to keep in order.”

“—Ryo-chan. I need him.” Half-shouting, Nino desperately tries to end this scene. “Ryo-chan, get here now!”

Matsumoto then walks toward the door in silence and heads out of the store, but not before aiming a confused gaze toward the two behind the counter.

Once the sliding door shuts, they stare at each other; Nino with a flushed face and Yuriko with a big creepy smile.

“So you better be back before 3 PM sharp or I’m going to start calling Aiba-chan and telling him that you’ve eloped with your gorgeous co-star and left me here alone with Ryo-chan during the afternoon rush hour.”

“No one is eloping and it won’t take more than an hour. And you’re enjoying this too much. I hate you,” Nino says. “Ryo-chan!”

“He’s probably still out back trying to sort out the leftover morning bentos. I’ll get him. You can go on and help him with acting,” she says, smiling wider and wider, “after you take that silly apron off though. I won’t approve of any misuse of store property outside of work hours.”

“I hate that now I have to thank you,” Nino says, taking off his apron quickly and storing it under the counter.

Yuriko sends a dismissive wave toward him. “I hate to say ‘you’re welcome’ but being a boss is tough work, being a good example and such.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I _am_ a good example, thank you very much. Now, go. I can see he’s been staring at us since he stepped outside.”

“You’re definitely calling Aiba-chan the moment I’m gone, aren’t you?

“Definitely.” She grins widely before she turns her attention outside and sees Matsumoto staring at his shoes. “Oh and I think he’s going to start crying any minute from the look of it. You better get him. Offer some comfort or something.”

“Not funny.”

“He’s worth being nervous for though. Maybe you’ll get lucky this time.”

“Still not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking. Really, perhaps you’ll do well with this one,” Yuriko says, still with that creepy smile of hers, which means that she’s still teasing him; Nino knows better. “Have a nice lunch. Be back at 3! Or I’ll call Aiba-chan _and_ Sho-kun.”

“Nothing’s stopping you after all.” Nino goes around the counter and heads toward the sliding door with his arm outstreched. “Tell Aiba-chan, I’ll murder him for this later.”

 

They don’t walk far; Matsumoto suggests they share coffee at the coffee shop a block from the store, and Nino, too drained from dealing with Yuriko to care, agrees. They settle for two black coffees at the corner table.

“Since we’re getting coffee now, that means you still owe me lunch.”

Matsumoto slides his cup farther aside on the table, taking his time with sugar and cream. “Fine, I’ll cook you lunch some other time.”

“That’d be nice.” Nino takes his phone out from his pocket and sets it on the table, face up, glancing at the time. “But the clock is ticking. I won’t be able to live it down if I get back later than 3 o’clock. So what happened?”

“I’ve been messing up my scenes.”

“And becoming the sole cause of this schedule delay we’re all experiencing right now?

Matsumoto looks more lost than embarrassed. “Yes.”

Nino sighs heavily. “Stop looking so lost and confused. It doesn’t suit you.”

“But I’m feeling lost and confused. I now know that there’s so much at stake, people are relying on me to execute the scene and move on to the next thing on the schedule, and I haven’t been—“

“Just stop.”

“I’m telling you what happened on the set. Nino, I can’t do this, I’m going to sabotage the whole production, and there’s nothing—“

“Stop!” Nino says, a little bit louder than he intends to. A few people turn their heads toward them but he chooses to ignore them. “Too much information. I don’t need to know about the schedule and such. That’s Sho-chan’s business. I asked you what happened. What kind of mess have you made? Which scene? Why?”

“I think it was because of you.”

Nino groans. “And do not bring me into this. I didn’t do anything!”

Matsumoto ignores him this time and continues with his explanation. “I kept thinking about your piano scene.”

“Thanks, but that’s not my fault at all.”

“And how to incorporate so many feelings into a scene, to display so many emotions from such short instructions from Sensei,” Matsumoto says, hands waving as he animates his points. “It got me thinking. My scenes, the ones I have completed, are nothing like that. Far from it. They always involve various poses, short lines of dialogue. And I feel like Sensei is asking something that I cannot bring to surface so everything feels… empty.”

Nino leans against the seat to marvel at Matsumoto, spurting out his thoughts, his concerns on him. How did this happen anyway? He remembers being nervous—with some eye-rolling avoidance tactics he was ready to employ—around the man, and one ramen treat later they are sharing—or maybe it’s Matsumoto who’s doing the sharing, he doesn’t do anything—worries and concern.

“How many times have you read the whole script?”

“Ten times from cover to cover, and then more on my specific parts.”

“And how would you describe the character you play?”

“Aloof, lonely, and an opportunist.”

“Does his life feel empty then?”

A spark of recognition. “Yes.”

“There. You’ve got it then. Problem one solved.” Nino raises his coffee mug to give a salute before taking a small sip. “Anything else? You know, I should charge you by the minute. I’d be a rich man by now if I’d thought about this earlier.”

Matsumoto stares at his untouched coffee. “I keep asking for a retake, and I talked to Ohno-sensei especially about this. I think he doesn’t really like my performance on this project. He said he wasn’t expecting me to deliver such a performance but he’ll make do.”

Nino considers his answer for a while. “He said he’ll make do, right?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then he’ll make do. Why does it bother you then?”

“Because I’m not able to deliver a kind of performance at your level.”

“Of course you can’t.”

Matsumoto looks completely dejected by the answer.

“Oh, I said stop it with the lost and confused look, I can only handle so much,” Nino says, drawing a small smile from Matsumoto. “What I wanted to say was that there’s no way you can deliver my kind of performance. Because it’s only me who can. No one else could.”

“Well, still.”

“I’m seeing no real life-threatening, suicide-inducing problem here. It’s all you, wrapped up in your own worry and causing problems for the production people. Again. I thought we talked about this.”

“But I just don’t know what to do. Now they are postponing everything for two days because Aiba-chan cannot get an extension on the warehouse and Sho-kun has to deal with equipment rental extension.”

“Too much information.” Nino waves away his concern again. “How do you know about these things anyway?”

“I ask them.”

“So you’ve been busy, worrying yourself to death and snooping around production team business.”

“Pretty much,” Matsumoto says, offering a sad smile. “Now that I’ve talked it out with you it does seem pretty stupid.”

“I should get you to call me _senpai_ for the rest of my life. Seriously. All the advice I’m throwing your way seems to be bouncing back uselessly. Remember what I said about us actors?”

“We actors act.”

“And what have you been doing the past week?”

“Worrying myself to death and snooping around production team business.”

“Exactly,” Nino says with finality.

They fall into silence as they finish their coffee; Matsumoto offers to order another cup and Nino agrees—there’s still 20 minutes on the clock after all.

“Thank you,” Matsumoto says. ”I feel calmer now that I’ve talked to you. Sorry for the outburst and for bothering you with your work.”

“You are so hard to resist sometimes.” Nino shrugs. “And I have the worst friends on the planet.”

“They are very kind, you’re lucky,” Matsumoto says. “In fact, you know your way with the whole production team. I never have that closeness with my colleagues. You act like you are annoyed with all of them but you treat them well.”

“I’m still going to murder Aiba-chan the first chance I get.”

Matsumoto laughs at that, his eyes kind and thankful, and Nino falls; later, he tells himself, later when the project is done, when the scene is done, when everything is no longer complicated—yet when are things ever not complicated, he wants to argue. He glances down at his phone instead; 10 more minutes.

“10 more minutes,” he says to Matsumoto. “Anything else? Because if not, you should ask for the bill and send it to Sho-chan. I mean it. He needs to pay for this. I’m doing all the work around here.”

 

Two days later, Sho stops by at the store in the morning to meet him and buy some disgusting egg salad packages. “Everything is settled and we’re starting with your days again on Monday.”

“Roger that.”

“And your crush-slash-boyfriend is having an all night shooting day if you’re curious.” With eyebrows wiggling, and toned-down laugher, Sho emphasizes his last sentence.

“Sho-chan, I can get Yuriko-chan here in under 5 seconds and you’re going to eat your words.” He puts all of Sho’s items in a plastic bag after he rings them up. “4,500 yen.”

Sho gives him a 5000 bill, beaming smugly. “He’s been in your care. We all owe you for slapping him back into shape. Running all smoothly now.”

“You’re doing this to get back at me for of all the nagging I did during pre-production, right? Stopping by here so early in the morning.”

“Damn right. It’s good to finally have the chance to get back at you,” Sho says merrily. He’s about to add something else when a series of blinks and chirps come out from his tablet.

“But your mighty device is calling you.” Nino points helpfully to said device. “Now go away before I truly get Yuriko-chan here.”

>  
> 
> A pair of lips lock. Audible panting. Forehead against forehead. Close. Sharing air.

“Want to try hugging each other first?” Matsumoto asks off-handedly in the wardrobe room. He’s already topless, and walking around the room, hands waving as he speaks.

Nino gapes at him in shock. “What?”

“We do need to practice. I haven’t as much as touched your hand,” Matsumoto coolly says.

“What?” Nino asks again, now that he realizes that they aren’t alone on the room. Yamada-chan is currently sitting on the floor next to his feet, fixing the bottom part of his over-sized pajama trousers, while Aiba-chan is trying his best to not audibly giggling as he reads the memo for today by the door.

“I don’t think I should make another ‘thick’ comment because the hilarity is beginning to wear thin. At least I can pay you back for the ‘can you teach me’ mess last week. I can’t act as well as you but I am good with posing. You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Nino says, a little bit too fast. “Don’t you trust these two jerks if they are telling you otherwise.”

“Yes, you are,” Matsumoto shrugs, not caring about audience, and that somehow annoys and impresses Nino at the same time. “Aiba-chan has been giving some hints but I didn’t think that far ahead. I’ve been too wrapped up in everything being so new around, moving so fast, and I totally didn’t notice it at first. But now that I think about it, you are—“

“—not nervous,” Nino finishes his sentence, sending a glare toward Aiba. “And I’m going to murder that tattletale Aiba-chan eventually.”

“Right.” A smile blooms on Matsumoto’s face, beautifully as he tries to not roll his eyes. “I’ve done a nude shot before,” he adds. “Really, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Too much information,” Nino says. Near his feet, Yamada-chan is definitely snorting as she works on his outfit, but he decides not to step on her hands because he’s a pro at this. “And you’re telling me this now, in the presence of these two members of the gossip troupe, because?”

Matsumoto stops in front of him, in all his barechested glory, and Nino is thinking that he probably could get used to it eventually—but probably not, it’s a sight to behold and he’s enjoying the view so far, even more that he probably should be.

“Well, if you’re curious, I can tell you few simple pointers. It shouldn’t bother you at all. It’s just work after all,” Matsumoto says, before realizing something. “Ah, perhaps that’s how acting is for you.”

“Not curious. Not at all.” Nino wishes he had his phone so he could at least seem to genuinely ignore Matsumoto. “And of course it’s just work. What are you thinking, you, over there trying to look busy with your paperwork?” He turns to point violently at Aiba, who only responds with an extended hand shrug and an eyebrow wiggle.

“Yes. It’s nothing personal.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I don’t need to remind you that I’m the _senpai_ in all this.”

“No need indeed,” Matsumoto says, his tone serious. It doesn’t take much to realize that he was deliberately trying to comfort Nino. “I was just telling myself that it’s nothing personal. Nothing personal.”

“Shut up. Now you’re making me nervous,” Nino says. “And Yamada-chan, how much time you need to fix the seam of my pajamas anyway? I think you just want to be here to listen to our conversation and report back to Sho-chan later.”

She grins. “Mhm, but this needs serious, life-and-death level of serious, fixing, I probably would be here until they call you back to set. Yeah, I think I should stay here, you know, like a fly on the wall, or a wardrobe woman on an assignment.”

Aiba finally explodes into hiccup-giggles, and Matsumoto and Yamada-chan join in on the action, and it finally draws a relaxed smile from Nino.

 

Ohno meets them with raised eyebrows when they arrive at the set. “I heard some commotion back there.”

“It was all Matsumoto’s and Aiba-chan’s fault, Sensei,” Nino quickly explains. “They’re having too much fun with this.”

Ohno smiles. “And setting you both in good mood, I see. Good. We can start now if you’re ready.”

Matsumoto nods. “Sure.”

“I need few running test-shots first,” Ohno explains. “But since we’re short of time, the light and all, consider this as a real take. We’re doing all the shots in sequence, chronologically. Just like a photo shoot, Matsumoto. You lead the action. And Nino, you follow him.”

Nino nods and feels his entire body warm up in anticipation. Matsumoto turns to him, now looking not as confident as he was a few minutes ago, and Nino knows that they are going to do this properly; they can be nervous together and get the job done.

Ohno directs them to sit by the bed. “Let me arrange the background first. Takeda-san?”

Takeda-san comes onto the set, and with his team, he shifts the lighting for the vast window. It’s still daytime now, early afternoon, but they are going to do this at dusk so they are putting a few filters on the window, setting the mood of the bedroom into something dim and hazy.

“Okay. Positions.” Ohno has his assistant rearrange the overhead microphone as Nino lies down on the bed, waiting for Matsumoto to cover him with his body. Matsumoto’s chest is as clammy as his palms, and Nino feels a slight relief. They can do this. He’s not alone on this one; he has Matsumoto with him. He stares up at the eyes hovering above him, clear brown, seeing through his nervousness; he offers a small smirk and closes his eyes, ready for Ohno’s instructions. He hears rhythmic breathing from Matsumoto, and waits.

“Call it. Music!”

Music? Nino opens his eyes slowly to meet Matsumoto’s eyes, with more intensity, and catches the first bar of his piano piece drifting in at a low volume, so far yet so close. It’s heady, and the sole sight he can focus on is Matsumoto’s eyes, his hands moving to wrap around the man, waiting for his cue to ask for more; why didn’t they practice this?

Yet as it turns out, he’s glad they have never practiced this particular scene; everything is so new, so warm, so intoxicating. The bridge of his piano piece comes in repeat and— “Kiss him, Matsumoto. Slowly.” For a split second Matsumoto keeps on staring into Nino’s eyes, seeking permission he already has, before slowly lowering his lips—his lush lips, ones that have been haunting Nino since the day they met—to meet Nino’s. Soft and wet touches land on his lips and Nino swallows his moans; he returns the touches, meeting the slow rhythm Matsumoto sets as they keep their kisses unhurried, accentuating each touch with the light puffs of air they share.

“Repeat.” Matsumoto pulls back a little before repeating the same path again, this time properly starting from one corner of Nino’s mouth, making his slow way toward the other; it’s getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes open but Nino tries, keeping his eyelids heavy and letting Matsumoto control the rhythm before it falters a little bit when Ohno moves on with his camera closer to get them from the side. “Repeat.” Matsumoto shifts again, and this time Nino moves his hands on Matsumoto’s back a little bit lower, giving him more leverage to meet Matsumoto’s lips more every time he’s given another soft touch.

“Give me a deep kiss.” Matsumoto doesn't hesitate to set a faster pace, his hands moves up to thread his fingers in Nino’s hair, keeping his head still as he deepens the kiss; Nino stops trying to swallow his moans, letting them escape his mouth when Matsumoto pulls back. “Repeat.” Matsumoto does a good job, in his hazed mind, to keep the pace exactly the same, it’s becoming pattern after pattern. “Repeat. Long shot now. Legs, Matsumoto.” Ohno sounds so far at the moment and Nino feels Matsumoto shifts, pressing him further into the bed, while his lips repeat the pattern.

They repeat the long shot frame twice before Ohno’s voice sounds closer again. “Forehead. Keep still for few seconds, before you open your eyes.” Nino follows the instructions, counting his rapid heartbeat before again, finding Matsumoto’s eyes, heavy-lidded and shining with lust, so close. He breathes through his mouth, still open and wanting, wanting those lips to touch his again, and concentrates on not smiling. “Close your eyes and repeat.” And again, those eyes drown him. “Nino, close your eyes.” He complies and feels the bed shift on his right. His breathing is still a little bit erratic, and he doesn’t do anything to even it out; it feels right. “Look at Matsumoto. Open your eyes.” This time a lens looks back at him. “Give me warmth.” Nino brings the image of the sharp eyes—he’s seen it full of doubt, full of guilt, full of happiness, and now full of desire, dark and wanting. He wants more so he asks permission, seeks understanding, and wants love in return.

“Cut. Video check!”

>   
>  OVER THE SHOULDER. Warm eyes.
> 
> Heat radiating; random deep violet flash over soft yellow light. 

“You’re good,” Matsumoto says, sighing happily. They are waiting for Ohno to decide another shot, sitting on the chairs on the left side of the set far from the commotion on behind the monitor. Except for when Yamada-chan gives them their bathrobes, no crew members—not even Aiba-chan and Sho—approach them. Whether it’s for the sake of the shooting mood or not, Nino is grateful he doesn’t have to deal with them right now.

“Thanks. I can certainly return the compliment to you.”

“Nino.”

“Yes—“ He turns and finds Matsumoto leaning toward him, dropping a soft kiss on his right cheek and pulling back with a big smile.

“W-what?”

“Let’s start with cheek kisses first. We have plenty of time before we need to jump to bed.”

Nino feels his cheeks flushing, but it isn’t an unwelcome feeling, in fact it feels tingly, good the kind of tingly. Everything is warm again and Matsumoto just kissed him on the cheek. “We just spent a day half naked in bed, pressed into each other—“

“That didn’t count.”

“Says you.”

“Says I,” Matsumoto says. “I’ve decided that while I might be terrible at acting, I learned a lot these two months. I don’t know if I’m going to do it again. It sure is more difficult that just posing for the still camera.“

“You should save the speech for the wrap-up party,” Nino mutters his protest—it’s getting hard to protest for something that he doesn’t want to protest in the first place.

“Yet I’m glad I got to practice with you.”

Nino can’t help but smile at the sentiment, but for now he keeps the sentiment to himself. Not yet. They haven’t even finished filming yet. Not until the last scene is done, not until the wrap-up party is done, not until he gets his next project. Not until Matsumoto can convince him again; he’ll be waiting. “If I didn't know better, I’d take that as a cheap comment, an effort to be on my good side and have me treat you to ramen again even when you still owe me a lunch.”

“Maybe.” Matsumoto smiles knowingly at him. “Or maybe I just hate you,” he adds with the same delight sparkles in his eyes.

They are the same sparkles Nino finds sending nice warmth creeping up to his cheeks, the ones that have kept him staring during the first meeting, the ones that keeps him nervous all along, the ones mirroring his. He turns to Matsumoto with a wide grins and replies, “I hate you, too.”

.


End file.
